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Q^i4/6i>c^i^et:^^ ^^,'w4k><Jt^ap^ (9bition. 

**NtMa turn doitanda louru is that Building : you could not — 
Placing New York's map before you — Hgbt on half so queer a spot." 

^Uch<^ 9lo. 1493 
"Em W^ovaaxOi ffLikti on a Bicgcle" 


^l^od tfuvb^ to me ^ 


By KARL KRON p*^*-^] ■ 

AuTHOs OF "Four Years at Yalb, by ▲ GraiwKJb of 5)C/I ' 





1887 -•*- \^' 




R 1927 L 


Mn BitlUHSdtg 

(thb very best dog whose presence ever blessed this planet) 






CoiirrigbUd, 1884. 
.1 lf»^ai^Fuuu^:\: 

MMotMluraA. 188|.r, 
1^ tiw BrsmapiBUi Puniaa Ooa»«H?, 

Assumptions for a special 
class of travelers. 


- . I Thb is a book of America» roads, for men who travel on the bicycle. Its 
Scope of the\ j^^^ .^ ^^^ ^^ ^ gaxetteer, a dictionary, a cydopsedia, a sUtistical guide, a 
volum€, I thesaurus of facts. The elaborateness of its indexing shows that it is designed 
teas for reading than for reference,— less for amusement than for instruction,— and debars any one 
from objeaing to the multiplicity of its details. No need exists for a weary wading through the 
mass of these by any seeker for special knowledge. The information which he wants can be 
found at ooce, if contained in the book at all ; and the pages which do not interest him can be 

left severely alone. 

In reporting my own travels, I have assumed that the reader 
(as a bicycler who may plan to ride along the same routes) desires 
to know just what I was most desirous of having advance knowl- 
edge of, in every case ; and I have tried to tell just those things, in the simplest language and 
the moJt compact form. I have accounted no fact too trivial for record, if it could conceiv- 
ahiy help or interest wheelmen when touring in the locality to which it relates ; and I insist that 
no critic, save one whose road^xperience makes him more compeunt than I am to predict what 
nch tooristt want to know, has any right to censure me on this account, as " lacking a sense of 
penpective." My power to please these particular people, by oflEering them these microscopic 
details, can be proved by experiment only ; but I object in advance to having any one meanwhile 
misrepresent me as endeavoring to please people in general. " The general reader |' may justly 
demaod of the critic that he give warning against a writer-of-travels, as well as against a novel- 
ktorvene-maker, who is so precise and exhaustive as to be tedious; but a chronicler who 
avowedly seeks to be precise and exhaustive, in compiling a special sort of gaietteer.—and who 
ifisdaims any desire of restricting its scope to points which are salient and notably significant 
and universally interesting,— nuy as justly demand of the critic that he do not condemn the 
work " because unsuiied to the geperal reader." 

Fairwamingsfor'Uhe\ ^.^"^S*'?* ^^^ latter all-powerful personage. I recognize that 

f f it ^w money is as good as anybody's " ; and I mtend, madentally, 

general reader. | ^^ ^jj ^^^ ^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^p.^^ ^^ ^^^ j^j^ . ^^^ j ^^ y^^^ ^yoX, 

he shall buy it with his eyes open, if he buys it at all, and shall have no pretext for pretending that 
I catered to his taste in preparing it, or relied upon his patronage in making it a success. I aim, 
rather, to pique his curiosity by proving that profit may be gained, in defiance of him, from the 
support of a world of readers whose existence he never dreamed of ; and I expect that, when- 
ever his curiosity forces him to pay me tribute, in order to study the manners and customs of 
tfaoae readers who inhalnt this new " world on wheels,'' he will be civil enough to remember 
the motive which induced his expenditure, and to refrain from reviling me as having baited him 
in by false pretences, or failed to give him his money's worth. As regards " the genera] 
reader," then, I say : " Cavtai emptor ! Having paid up, let hun shut up ! If I welcome 
him to my show, it is avowedly ios no other reason than that his coin may help fill the yawning 
diasm at my banker's. I have not planned the performance to please him, nor have I varied my 
ideal of it one iota to avoid the danger of his derision. I shall be glad, incidentally, to win his 
good>wiIl ; but, if his ill-will be aroused instead, I protest against his proclaiming it in such way 
as to obscure this truth: that what I chiefly aim to win is the good-will of the 3000 wheelmen 
who hxn subscribed to my scheme in advance, and of the 300,000 wheelmen whom those sub- 

*' Well-written and readable beyond the common " was the verdict 
which the reviewer of the Times passed upon my opening chapter, when 
it first appeared, in a magarine, four years ago ; but I have not en- 

Attempts at verbal 

deavored to make any of my regular touring reports " readable/' to the uninitiated, save only 

An autobiography be- 
tween the lines. 


regretted, there goes along with it the conciliatory notion of a life which has won nothing worthy 
of public boast, and which expects no public honor in the future. " The personal element/' 
as Professor Sill says, " need not be in the least an egotistic intrusion of self.'* 

Incidentally, then, the volume is a sort of autobiography, and its 
vitality would be destroyed if "the personal equation " could be 
eliminated. The complexity and far-reaching relationship of mun- 
dane affairs are oddly shown by this example of how sincerity and thoroughness, even when 
applied to so remote and impersonal an object as reporting the roads of a continent, have powef 
to reflexively exhibit the reporter's habits and character. As regards myself, this tnith became 
early evident, that the wheelmen who were pleased with my printed facts about touring, soon 
grew to have a feeling of acquaintanceship with the narrator of them, coupled with a friendly 
curiosity. While at work, in their thousand separate ways, men may hate their business-com- 
petitors and feel bored by non-competitors who insist on " talking shop " ; but, at play, they ar« 
on common ground, and can never hear too much said in praise of the particular hobby which 
has the ability to delight their hearts. Reflecting on this, the notion gradually possessed me that 
my own popularity, as a representative spokesman among those players whose hobby is the bicy- 
cle, might be great enough to try to conjure with. Hence it happens that— considering how my 
life, with all its trials and troubles, has been a rather amusing experience — I now, on reaching 
the end of it (since the fun of the thing must needs be finished at forty), print this plain record 
of the things which have amused me most. 

I do it as a duty, — "pour encourager Us asdres "; but I do it 
because I believe " the others " will pay me well for " encouraging " 
them. I do it to make money. Yet, as almost all books are written 
as a matter of vanity, I fear few people will believe me when I declare that this one is written as 
a matter of business ; and that its chief significance, so far as concerns the outside world, is as a 
unique business enterprise, rather than as a literary curiosity. In the latter category I think it 
might also stand alone, as I am not aware of any previous ** autograph edition " approaching in 
magnitude to 3600 volumes, — " each one specially numbered, signed and addressed to nearly that 
many individual subscribers," — ^though possibly the records of bibliography may show such a 
phenomenon. But it is certain that from the day when the crew of Noah won the great human 
race, by boating in the Ark, this planet of ours has known no sport or pastime of such absorb- 
ingly personal interest as would enable an obscure and self-appointed representative of it to per- 
suade 3000 strangers, scattered all over the globe, that they pledge their money to him for con- 
structing a monumental record of their enthusiasm. 

Praise tiot sought for^ 
but money. 

Unique power of the cy- 
cling- enthusiasm. 

Though all the other pages in this volume be judged of no im- 
portance, those serried columns of subscribers' names (pp. 734.796) 
will stand as an everlastingly significant record of the strength of 
human sympathy. Appealing simply to this sentiment, — working alone and single-handed with 
my pen (literally, left-handed, during the third year of the struggle),— paying no money to the 
press for advertisements, and offering no premiums or discounts or rewards of any sort to private 
canvassers, I have done a thing which the most powerful publishing house in the world, resort- 
ing to the vast machinery of the organized book-trade, would have been quite unable to do. No 
other American (with the possible exception of the man who founded the Pope Manufacturing 
Company, for the making of bicycles, at a time when all the wise-heads thought such conduct 
the wildest folly) has staked as much as I have thus staked upon a belief in the permanence and 
** potentiality " of cycling. I recognized it as an absolutely new thing under the sun, in the 
sense of binding its votaries together by a stronger personal sympathy than any sport previously 
known in the world. The men who like yachting and boating and ball-playing and fishing and 
shooting and horse-racing, and other less prominent diversions, have an incomparably smaller in- 
terest in one another as fellow-sportsmen. No competent and candid critic can deny that I have 
impressively proved this, when he seriously reflects upon the utter impossibility of any other 
unknown enthusiast's persuading 3000 strangers to each " pat up a dollar," out of mere senti- 
mental regard for any other sport. 

7TU selling afyxfloo hooks 
less notabU than Uupled^ 
ing^ o/2poo subscribers. 

Business necessity of my 
fersotuU revelations. 


Henoe I say that my longest tour on the wheel shrinks 
into insignificance beside this novel tour deforce^ — this strange 
showing of a world-wide brotherhood which gives advance-sup- 
porters to an unknown American book, not only in every State 
and Territory of the Union, but 400 of them outside it : in Canada and Great Britain, in 
Australia and New Zealand, in Continental Europe, in Asiatic Turkey, Persia and Japan. 
Whether or not I shall reap the expected reward for this exploit (by pleasing these 3000 stran- 
gers so well that they will quickly force a sale of 30,000 books for me), experiment only can de- 
cide ; bnt I wish now to record the opinion that, if I do reap such reward, it will not seem to 
me so phenomenal a proof of the peculiarly personal power of cycling enthusiasm as docs this 
preliminary exploit itself. I wish, too, that before any critic hastens, off hand, to condemn this 
expectation as a colossal conceit, he will carefully consider whether, from his knowledge of the 
hnnian animal's indisposition to pledge money for anything unknown, my scheme for selling 
3o,ocn books, by a simple appeal to the friendly sentiment of 3000 strangers, is really so unbusi- 
ness-like and unpromising and unreasonable, as was my first step for proving the substantial sym- 
pathy of those 3000. 

I have a right to insist that that solid plialanx of supporters 
shall never be ignored in the judgment of any one who assumes 
fairly to judge the book which has been produced by their en- 
couragement. While declaring that so great a phalanx could not have been summoned, by the 
mere push of a pen, in behalf of any other sport than cycling, I will not affect a mock-modest 
belief that even this phalanx of cyclers could thus have been summoned, in the absence of a pre- 
vailing opinion that there was a man behind the pen. I feel, therefore, that I ought not to be 
censured or ridiculed, because, as a mere matter of business, I devote considerable fine type, in 
Chapter xxxviii. (pp. 70Z-733), to telling them who this man is. Unless denial be made in advance 
that I have any right to persuade these people to serve me freely as book-agents, my mere attempt 
to placate them, by showing the sort of person they are serving, cannot be condemned. I insist 
that I am not trying there to exhibit myself to other people ; and that " the general reader " is 
not bound there to search in pursuit of something else.- If he be curious to study " the growth 
of an idea " which has (by imperceptible gradations, and in spite of my hatred of publicity and 
"business'*) led me into a scheme whose success now demands that I strive to make myself 
the most notorious inhabitant of the " wheel world," he can find the full details there given ; 
but he must remember that I do not assume his curiosity in them, and do not give them for any 
other than a purely practical piupose. If I am to sell 30,000 books without resorting to the book- 
stores, — without granting discounts to cycling tradesmen or premiums to private agents, — with- 
out paying much advertising money to the wheel papers and none at all to the general press — it 
is plainly incumbent upon me to tell my prospective assistants exactly what I want them to do, 
and exactly why I hope for their help in victoriously violating the traditional rules of the book- 
business. The gist of my endeavor is to ensure conviction that the three years demanded by this 
book have been spent solely in their interest, — that I have construaed it with absolute personal 
independcnoe and honesty : 

" My motives pure; my satire free from gall ; chief of my golden rules I this install : 
* Malice temard* none, and charity for all. ' " 

It is due to my printers to say that, as they have obeyed the contract 
calling for close adherence to copy, even in the smallest details of punctua- 
tion, I alone am responsible for variations in " style. " My excuse for these, 
is, not amply that the original act of writing has extended from '79 to '86, but chiefly that the 
electrotyping itself has extended through nearly two years. So, as my book has grown farther 
and farther beyond the limits first set for it, I have resorted more and more to abbreviations and 
ooodensad forms of expression. The proportion of fine type, too, has been vastly increased, and 
the iodexe* of names have been unpleasantly " jammed," in a similar effort to reduce the bulk. 
Even " Mr." has been banished, as not worth its room. By two personal readings of the proofs, 

Typography and 


V. FOUR SEASONS ON A FORTY-SIX, 84-«4 : My broken elbow as a coracr- 
stone for the League, 24. First riding-lesson, in Boston, 35. Early exploration of New York 
roads, a6. First toar almost coincident with "A Wheel Around the Hub," 36. Summaries of 
mibage(74am. in '79)> 27; (1474 m. in '80), aS ; (1956 m. in '80,29; (1837 m. in '83), 30. 
Separate roadway and riding-days, 31. Trips by rail and water, 31-33. Solitude a necessity of 
touring, 34. Its charm shown by a parody from Calverley, 34. (Electro, in Mar. , ^85 ; 6300 
words. From the IVheetmanj Feb., '83 ; reprinted by Wheel World, of London.) 

VI. COLUMBIA, NO. 234, 86-48 : Unique experiences which makes its story worth 
telling, 35. My disclaimer of mechanical knowledge and of partiality, 36. Wear and tear of 
first 1500 m., 37. Durability of tires, 38. Spokes injured by careless polishing, 38. Breakings 
of backbone and neck, 39. Cranks, cone-bearings and new parts, 40. Costs of repairing, of 
" extras," of clothes and of transportation, 41. Last days of the machine, 42. New backbone 
and handle-bar, 43, 46. Miraculous escape from the mules, 44. Vain experiment at spoke- 
tightening, 46. Final wear of tires and pedals, 47. Plan of " rebuilding " abandoned in favor 
of " No. 234, Jr.," 47. Enshrined as a monument for wheelmen's homage, 48. (Electro, in 
Mar., '85 ; 8600 words, incl. 500 of fine type. First half, from Wheelman, Mar., '83 ; second 
half, from S^ingjield Wheelmen's GaaetU, Apr., '84 ; reprinted by Wheel World, July, 84.) 

VII. MY 234 RIDES ON "NO. 234," 49-«8: Triolet for peace-offering. 49. Daily 
averages, 49. First long rides, 50. List of 50 m. records in '8x, 51. Coasting, 51. Long 
stays in saddle, 52. A blazing strange trial on Long Island, 54. Falls and headers, 55. En- 
counters with road-hogs, horses and mules, 57. Thefts and mishaps, 57. Specimens of speed 
and of hill-climbing, 58. Weight, height, leg-measurement and sizes of wheels tried, 59. Advan- 
tages of an under-size machine, 60. Tests of physique in ante-bicycling days, 61. Habits 
of exercise, bathing and eating, 61. Long immunity from illness, 62. Sweating and drinking, — 
with some extra-dry rhymes for the abstemious Dr. Richardson, 63. (Electro, in Mar., '85; 
8800 words. From the Wheelman, Apr., '^3 ; verses reprinted by Wheeling, July 29, '85.) 

VIII. AROUND NEW-YORK, 64-100: Tojiography of Manhattan Island, 64- 
Social significance of localities, 65. System of numbering the streets and houses, 65. Block- 
stone pavements below Central Park, 66. Policemen and children as obstacles to sidewalk- 
riding, 67. Macadamized roadways around and above the Park, 68. East-side macadam and 
Blackwell's Island paths, 69. Morningside Park and High Bridge, 70. Central Bridge and Jer- 
ome Park, 71. Washington Heights and Kingsbridge, 72. Fordham and the Southern 
Boulevard, 72-3. Pelham Bridge and Ft. Schuyler, 73-4. Port Chester, White Plains and 
Tarrytown, 74-5. Vincent House to Yonkers and Kingsbridge, 75-7. Riverdale route to 
Yonkers, 78. Sawmill river route, 75, 79. Notable residences along the Hudson, 79. Spuyten 
Duyvil and Mt. St. Vincent, 80. Nyack and Englewood, 80. The Palisades, Ft. Lee and 
Weehawken, 81. Ferries to Hoboken and Jersey City, 82. Two routes to Newark, 82. Bergen 
Hill to Ft. Lee, 83. Bergen-Line Boulevard and the Hackensack marshes, 83. Ferries by 
which to enter or get around the city, 84. Route of Belt line horse-cars, connecting the ferry 
and steamboat docks, 85. Storage of wheels at the ferry baggage-rooms or on Warren St., 86. 
The big bridge, 86-7. Routes to and through Brooklyn, 87-8. Prospect Park and Coney 
Island, 89, 92. Jamaica and Astoria, 90. Ferries on East river, 91. Park Commissioners as 
obstructionists, 92-5. Statistics of Central Park and the new parks, 95-6. Clubs and club- 
rooms, 96-7. Fares on ferries and car lines, 97. The elevated railroads, 98. " Seeing " the 
city, 99. Maps, 99. Directories and guide-books, 100. (Electro, in Apr, '85 ; 23,000 words, 
incl. 2000 of fine type. First half, from Springfield Wkeelmen^s Gnzette, Bi. World and 
Wheel. Many corrections of and additions to the forecoing were written in Dec, '86, for the 
"summary," on pp. 582-6. See also pp. 150-8, 165-6, i6S. 246-7, 770-5.) 

IX. OUT FROM BOSTON, 101-114: To Portsmouth and back, 101-2. T^xington, 
Wahham, Worcester and Springfield, 103-4. Pemberton Square, the hotels, club-houses and 
other landmarks, 104-6. Streets of the Back Bay district, 106. Route to Rhode IsUind, 107. 
Newport rides, xo8. Providence to Worcester, 109. Springfield to Boston, iio-ii. Road- 
books and maps, 112-13. Day's runs of 100 m. straightaway, 113-14. (Electro, in May, '85; 


9600 words, incL 3600 of fine type. First part, from Bi. Worldf Aug. 26, '81, and May 2a, '85. 
See also pp. 114, 20S, 246, 579, 766-7.) 

X. THE ENVIRONS OF SPRINGFIELD, 115-128^: General advantages as a 
riding-disirict, 116. Eastward routes, 117. Northward routes, 118. Excursions from North- 
ampton, 119. Westward routes, 120. Southward routes, 122. Chances for long stays in the 
saddle, without repetition, 123-6. Maps and guide-books, 126-7. Notable straightaway runs, 
X2S. (Electro, in May, '85 ; 9600 words, incl. 3600 in fine type. First part, from H^'keeimaHf 
bee, '83. See " summary " of *86, pp. 579-80 ; also pp. 144-8, 179-831 193-4, 208, 251-4, 768.) 

its tributaries, 129. Experiences as boat-race manager at New London, 130. Along the shore, 
N. L. to New Haven, 131-a. Routes between N. H. and Hartford, 133-7. Notable rides be- 
tween N. H. and N. Y., 138-9. Up the Naugatuck valley, 139-42. The hills of Litchfield, 
143-4. The Farmington valley, 145. From the Hudson to the hills of Berkshire, 146-8. Maps, 
m8. Dr. Tyler's long run, 149. (Electro, in May, '85; 14,400 words, ind. 4290 in fine type. 
First part, from Springfield U'hetbneH^s Gazette^ J«ne, '85. See *' summary " of Dec., '86, 
pp. 581-2; also pp. 122-3, 179-S0, 248-51, 253-4, 700, 769-70.) 

XII. LONG ISLAND AND STATEN ISLAND, 160-168: Greenport to River- 
hcadand the south shore, 150. North shore route, 151. Flushing to Vaphank and back in 
*8t, 152-3. Long-distance riders of '83-4, 154. Maps and guide-books, 154-5, 158. My '81 
explorations of Staten Island, 156. " B. Bugle's " '82 report, 157. (Electro, in June, '85; 6300 
words, ind. 2700 in fine tjpe. From Bi. IVorld^ Nov. 26, '80 ; May 20, '81 ; Mar. 24 and July 
28, '82. See pp. 84, 86-92, 97, 583-6.) 

XIII. COASTING ON THE JERSEY HILLS, 169-178: Notable map by the 
State Geological Survey, 159, 175-6. Triangular outlines of the Orange riding-district, 160. 
Coasting, 161-2. Morristown and the Delaware Water Gap, 163-4, 173. Peterson, Hackensack 
and Ft. Lee, 165-8. Elizabeth and New Brunswick, 167, 172. Newark northward to New- 
burg, 169-71. "Z, & S." tour to Greenwood Lake, 170. Somerville, Trenton and Philadelphia, 
172-3. Tow-path from Easton to HackettstowUj 173. Basaltic columns of Orange Mtn., 174-5. 
Maps and guides, 174-S. " League Road-book of Pa. and N. J.," 177-8. (Electro, in June, 
'85; 13,250 words, incl. 4850 in fine type. First part, from the Wheelman^ June, '83. Sec 
"summary " of Dec, '86, pp. 583, 5S8-9; also pp. 80-85, 207, 776-8.) 

XIT. LAKE GEORGE AND THE HUDSON, 179-198: Hartford to Springfield, 
179-81. Up the Conn, valley to Bellows Falls, 182-4. Rutland to Whitehall and the lake, 184-5. 
Maps and guide-books, with statistics and verses, 185-7, 198' Ten days in the Catskills, 187-9. 
From the lake down the valley to Hudson, 189-90. Outline for a round trip, 191. '* Z. & S." 
tour to the lake, 192-3. Poughkeepsie to N. Y., 194. Fishkill to Hudson, 195. Swift records 
along the river, 197. *' Big Four "tour, 1 98. The Wallkill and Ramapo valleys, 198. (Electro, 
in Jnne, '85 ; 13,250 words, incl. 4850 in fine type. First part, from Bi. Worlds Oct. 7, Nov. 
II, '81. See pp. 74, 81, 586-7.) 

XV. THE ERIE CANAL AND LAKE ERIE, 199-208 : Initiation on the tow-path 
at Schenectady, 199. Tlie Mohawk valley, 200. Canandaigua, 202, Niagara to Buffalo, 203. 
The Ridge road along Lake Erie, 204-6. Binghamton to Great Bend, 207. Port Jervis to Del. 
Water Gapand across New Jersey, 207. W. H. Butler's ride, Saratoga to Olean, 208. (Electro. 
in June,'85 ; 6450 words, incl. 1350 of fine type. From Bi. World, May 27, June 3, 10, 17, '81,) 

Trenton Falls, 209-10. Suggestions for the Adirondacks, 210-11. Syracuse to Seneca Falls, 
312. Geneva I^ke to Avon Springs, 213. The Genesee valley and the falls at Portage, 213-14, 
217. Reports from Niagara, 215. " Big Foir" route, Buffalo to Rochester, 215. Verses on 
the Genesee Falls and the Kaaterskill, 216. Rochester to Portage and Niagara, 216-17. Along 
the Erie r. r.. Coming to Binghamton, 218-19. Along the Susquehanna, Towanda to Wilkcs- 
barre, 219-20. Weather, hotels and baggagemen of this 400 m. tour, 221. Abstract of " West- 
em New- York Rmd-Book," 221-^. (Electro, in June, '85; 10,800 words, ind. 5400 of fine 
tj-pc. From the Wkeelman, Jan. '83. See pp. 586-8.) 


the noble " Valley pike " to Staunton, 344-6. Topography of the Shenandoah region, frono G. 
E. Pond's " Campaigns of 1864," 346-S. Tour of Washington men in '82, from Harper's Ferry 
to the Natural Bridge and back to W., 34S-9. My own pedestrian trip to the Bridge, 349-50. 
Suggested combination of r. r. routes to the Bridge and Luray Cavern, 350-1. Other reported 
roads in Virginia, 351. Military maps in " The Campaigns of the Civil War," 352. (Electro, 
in Nov., '85; 14,200 words, iocL 6500 of fine type. First part, from SpringJUld Wkeelnui^t 
GaMtite, Dec, *85. See pp. 29^308, 374-90, 486, 495-8, 578, 590.) 

XXT. THE CORAL REEFS OF BERMUDA, 863 870: A winter invitation from 
Maine, 353. Geography and topography of the islands, from various authorities, 354-6. Mark 
Twain's alluring account of the coral roads, 356-7. Our arrival at Hamilton on Sunday, 35S. 
Sunset and moonlight along the North road to St. George's, 35). The South road, 360. The 
Middle road and Somerset, 361. My race for the return steamer, 362-3. Incidents, expenses 
and conditions of the ocean voyage, 364. Pleasant impression of the blacks, 364-5. Praise of 
*' the incomparable loquot," 365, 367. Almanac, maps and guide-books, 366-7. Exact details 
of the process called " free entry " at the New York Cuslcm House, 368-9. My ccmi anion 
appeals against our unjust tax, and wins a new decision from the Treasury Department, 369-70. 
This decision classes passengers' cycles as " personal effects," to be admitted without duty or 
delay, 370. Four names for wheelmen to hold in grateful memory, 370. (Electro, in Jan., '85, 
except the last 3 pp. in Dec. ; 11,600 words, inch 29cx> of fine type. From Springjletd iVhtel- 
metCs Gazette^ Jan., '85, except the last 3 pp. from OHiing, Mar., 'S5 ; reprinted in Tricycling 
Jourrutlt of London, and Australian Cycling Sews. The first 15 pp. were issued as a pamphlet 
— 1000 in Jan. and 2000 in Feb., '85— for the attraction of subscribers. See pp. 706, 710, 790.) 

tour, inspired by my hope of seeing " one good jjarade of the League," 371. Through Philadel- 
phia and Delaware, 372. Stuck in the Marj-land mud, 373. (iood riding from the Susquehanna 
to Baltimore and Ellicott City, 373. By ClarksvIUe pike to Wa&liington, 373-4. Fairfax Court 
House and Centerville, 374. Across the BuQ Run battle-fields to Warrenton, 375. Washing- 
ton's environs, as reported by W. F. Grossman, 376b Baltimore's suburban routes, 377. 
Springfield clerks* tour, New York to Washington, 377. Susquehanna tow-path, Havre-de- 
Grace to Columbia, 378. My muddy advance from Warrenton and passage of the Rappahan- 
nock, 378-9. Sweet strawberries at Sperryville before 1 climb the mountain, 379. Thunder 
and lightning celebrate my four-miles' descent of the Blue Ridge, 380. Luray and its Cavern 
contrasted and compared to Mammoth Cave and Bridge, 3S1-2. Over the Massanutten, 
381-2. Broiled frogs' legs at Mt. Jackson, 383. Down the Shenandoah to Harper's Ferry, 3S3-4. 
From the Antietam to Gettysburg, 384-5. Sunday morning's reflections in the National Ccme> 
tery, 385-6. York, Columbia, Lancaster, Alhntown and Enston, 386-7. The 1000 m. circuit 
which initiated " No. 234, Jr.," 388. H. S. Wood's swift ride from Staunton to Columbia, and 
other excursions, 388. His summary of tlie Philadelphia riding-district, including rules of 
Fairmount Park, 389-90. Artistic and literary treatment of the '69 viloce^ 390. (Electro, in 
Dec., '85 ; 14,400 words, incL 7200 of fine type. Firet part, from Spring/ield fVfutlmen's 
Gazette, Jan., '86; last paragraph was crowded out from p. 404 of " Bone-Shaker Days." See 
pp. 172-3, 238-45, 341-53. 486, 495-8. 578.) 

XXTII. BONE-SHAKER DAYS, 891-406: How the Wonderful Year, '•1869," 
rolled in on a velocipede, 391. The load of obligations which bound me, a Senior in Yale Col- 
lege, to waste no time in trifling, 392. First experiences at the rink, and decision to resist its 
allurements, 393. A sidewalk vision-of-beauty on the two-wheeler .scatters my prudence to the 
winds, 393. I submit to destiny and become a velocipedist, 394. The old white horse whose 
ghost I sent galloping through the newspapers, 395. Proof that the undergraduate world fonns 
the only real and universally-recognized aristocracy in America, 396-7. Trustworthiness of 
"journalism," as shown by eight variations of the fictitious " horse story," 397-8. The bone- 
shaker welcomed at Yale in 1819 as well as in '69, 39S-9. The »*/? Lit. Magazine's care^ful 
chronicle of the three months which marked the rise, decline and fall of vclocipcding at New 
Haven, 400-2. Other testimony, from Goddard's scrappy book and the newspapers of '69, 402-4 


(see also p. 390X Post-coDegiate reminiscences of the Pickering, 404-5* My final trial of the 
bone-shaker, in '7a, at the Crystal Palace dog-show, 405. Narrow chance by which I failed of 
"imponing the first rubber-tired bicycle into the United States," when 1 came home from En- 
gland in April of '76, 406. (Electro, in Aug., '85 ; 10,700 words, ind. 3900 of fine tyi>e. First 
half from S^g/tiL WketlmeH^s GnzetU, Sept., '85 ; last half from i^heel H^or^ii, of London, 
Oct., '85 ; reprinted also by Tricycling Journal, Dec. 23, 30, '85 ; Austraiian Cycling News ^ 
Jan. a, '86. Issued as a pamphlet, lobo copies, for the attraction of subscribers, Nov. 12, '85.) 

XXYIII. CURL, THE BEST OF BULb-DOGS, 407-425 ; Origin, characteristics 
azid environment, 407. The gentlest of hearts beneath a fierce exterior, 40S. Personal appear- 
ances and " points," 409. (General impression made upon strangers, as portrayed by the poet 
of Puckf 409. Leaping through the window-glass, with the cry of " Out ! damned Spot ! " 
4fa Relations with Black Jack, ostensible and secret, 410-11. The garden fence as a pre- 
tended barrier for bravery, 411. Verses of honor for "the outside dog in the fight," 41a. 
Ruffianism towards a pair of canine weaklings, 412. Ears sensitive to bell-ringing, 413. The 
btal faadnatioD of fireworks, 413. Conventional resentment assumed for certain noises and 
movements, 413-14. Winter sport with snow-caves, sledding and skating, 414. Hatred of 
boating and swrimming, 415. A furtive drinker, 415. Assumption of dignified indifference to< 
wards the cats, 416. Tricks in food-taking, 416. Demand for the front seat in every vehicle, 
417. Exploits as a fence-jumper and hen-chaser, 417. Troubles as a fly-catcher and candy- 
eater, 418. Victorious over the woodchuck but vanquished by the bumble-bees, 418. Abashed 
by the elephant, 418. The wicked flea, 419. "Circling" as a conventional diversion, 419. 
Religioiis rites with the saw-horse, 419. A fetich of wonderful power, 420. Canine asceticism 
gratified by head-bumping, 421. Birth and name, 421. Politically a " War Democrat " in the 
stirring times of '6t, 422. Rare lapses from virtue's path, 422. Health and strength impaired 
by poisoo, 422. Dislike of mirrors and bed-chambers, 423. Outward signs of seeing phantasms 
and visions in sleep, 423. Deliberaieocss of retiring for the night, 423-4* Waning prestige a 
token of old age, 424. Refusal to tarry in a world which might give greater esteem to " cycling " 
than to " circling," 424. Exceptional toleration for the poor creature who was fated to attend 
him on the final night, 4as> Dead, at the post of honor, 425. (Electro, in July, '85 ; rt,ooo 
words, ind. 325 of fine type. Written, July 27 to Aug. 2, '84, and rejected by all the magazine 
editors. A spedal edition of 1000 copies, on heavy paper, with cover and heliotype portrait, has 
been published and will be mailed for 25 c. each.) 

" character " in buildings, 426. Chances for self-suppression in London and New York com- 
pared, 436-7. The only two modem cities whose immensity obliterates the sense of locality 
and renders individual isolation possible, 427. The metropolitan spirit of impersonality illus- 
trated by a quotation from Howdls, 427-8. Lightness of " social pressure " in the most- 
seduded Building of the least-csnsorious city on the globe, 428. Description of it, as " Chrysalis 
College,** in Theodore Winthrop's novel of 1861, 428^^ Report by T. R. Aldrich, in 1866, 430. 
Three other accounts, in 18S0, 431. History of Washington Square, with Henry James's sym- 
pathetic picture of it as " the most delectable," 432. The Nation^ accurate description of the 
Square, io 1878, 433- Its corner-stone laid in 1833 and its chances of endowment destroyed by 
the business panic of '37, 433-4. Pictures and statistics of the Building, in various standard 
works, 434. A more massive and imposing collegiate pile than had previously been known in 
the Western Worid, 434-5. Dream of the founders about a " non-sectarian combination " up- 
held by the influence and cash of several powerful sects. 435. Popular confusion of identity 
between the '* University of the City of N. Y.," the " University of the State of N. Y.," the 
"College of the City of N. Y." and that other and largest college in the dty which is called a 
university by its friends, 436. No hope of prcal endowments, but no fear of actual starvation, 
436-7. A meritorious institution, but dwarfed by the shadow of a mighty name, 437. How the 
two hundred students and instructors, who daily throng its halls, serve as a cloak for the identity 
of the thirty or forty permanent tenants, 418. Difficulty of espionage by day, and isolation of 
the janitor by night, 438. A peculiarity which made plausible the alleged concealment of " Cecil 


Dreeme," 438-9. Sketch of Theodore Winthrop, 439-40. The mystery of solitude protects the 
Building from the incursions of the evil-minded, 440-1. As regards its relations to womankind, 
441-4. " Castle " and " Custom " contrasted, 444. " Social pressure " in England, which ob- 
literates individual freedom, 445-8. Testimony of Hamerton, Borrow and Kadal, 44^7' The 
latter's showing why *' society " cannot exist in America, 44S-9. Relentlessness of servants' 
tyranny over the wealthy, whether their environment be aristocratic or democratic, 449-50. 
Evils of hotel-life, 450. Disquieting social-shadows cast by the peculiar system of street-num- 
bering in use on Manhattan Island, 451-2. Fifth Avenue, as described in '85 by J. H. Howard, 
jr., 453-4. Brief escapes from the " servitude to servants " gained by a resort to ihe woods, or 
to the constant changes of travel, 454. The only house in the world where the yoke of con- 
formity need never be worn, 454. How ihe simple savager>' of the Far West may be enjoyed, 
with less expense and discomfort, by the solitary camper-out on Washington Square, 455. An 
elegant and elaborate system of living also possible, without abandonment of impersonal con- 
ditions, 456. The janitor and his assistants, 457-61. Contrasts pointed by " the mighty 
concierge" who tyrannizes over Paris, 458-9. Lack of conveniences and of good business- 
management atoned for by safety and independence, 460-1. The inspiring fiction of sole 
ownership, 462, Rarity of personal contact among tenants, 463. The Nestor of the Castle, 
464. Artists and college-bred men its chief admirers, 465. Pleasures of undergraduate life re- 
called without its labors, 466. Peace secured at the Castle without the sacrifice of companion- 
ship, 467. Hamerlon's remarks on the compensations of solitude and independence, 467-9. 
Bohemianism and Philistinism contrasted, 469. Visit of the Prince of Wales, in i860, to this 
'* freest spot in free America," 469-71. Analogy between the Building and the Bicycle, 472. 
Poem by Robert Herrick, 472. (Electro, in Sept., '85; 31,700 words, incl. 11,700 of fine type. 
Written in Sept., '84, and Aug., '85 ; see p. 710. A special ed. of 1000 copies, on heavy paper, 
with cover and small picture of the Castle, has been published and will be mailed for 25 c. each.) 

and his 8000 m. trail, of 1884-5, ^'^^^ California to Persia, 473-4 (see also pp. 570-a, for ad- 
ventures of '86, in Afghanistan, India, China and Japan, completing his round-the-world tour). 
San Francisco to Boston in '84, 475-80. Liverpool to Teheran in '85, 480-3. Comparisons be- 
tween his three years' journey and my own three years' task of putting together this book, 483-4. 
Hugh J. High's '85 tour of 3000 m., Pennsylvania to Nebraska and back, 484-6. Long ride in 
'83 by Dr. H. Jarvis, 486-7. St. Louis to Boston in '85, by G. W. Baker, 487-8. Ohio-to-Bos- 
ton tours of '80 and '81, 488. Illinois to Wyoming in '82, by Will Rose, 489. A July fortnight 
of '84 in California, by H. C. Finkler, 489-91. Yosemite Valley trip of '85, by the Rideout 
brothers, 491-2. Notable all-day runs in California, '79 to '85, 491-4- W. B. Page's summer 
excursions from Philadelphia, '82 to '85, 494-9 (see also pp. 574-8 for 1400 m. tour of 'S6). 
Elderly and " professional " tourists, 499. Southern trios' tours to Springfield in '85 and to 
Boston in '86, 500. M, Sheriff's Manchester-Montreal circuit of 700 m. in '84, 500. E. R. 
Drew's routes in Ohio, 501. W. P. Cramer's three days' straightaway, 501. (Electro, in Jan., 
'86 ; 26,000 words, incl. only 250 of coarse type. Stevens's ride to Boston, pp. 473-So, was printed 
in Wheelmen's Gazette^ Jan., '87 ; and the rest of the story, pp. 480-4, 570-2, in Feb. issue.) 

XXXI. STATISTICS FROM THE VETERANS, 502-580: Difficuhy of persuad- 
ing men to prepare perronal records, 502-3. C. E. Pratt, 503-4. J. G. Dalton, 504-5. L. J. 
Bates, 505-6. C. A. Hazlett, 506-7. W. V. Oilman, 507-8. L. H. Johnson, 508-9 (see also 
5.1°. 588). J. W. Smith's tabulation of 20,000 m., July, '80, to Dec, '85, 509. R. D. Mead, 509-10. 
N. P. Tyler, 510-11. H. W. Williams. 511-12. S. H. Day, 512-13. T. Midgley, 513-15. W. 
L. Perham, 515. T. Rothe, 515-16. A. S. Parsons, 516-17. W. Farrington, 517-18. E. A. 
Hemmenway, 517-18. B. B. Ayers, 518-19. N. H. Van Sicklen, 519. F. E. Yates, 519-20. 
G. J. Taylor, 520. T. B. Somers, 520-1. J. D. Dowling, 521-2. G. F. Fiske, 522-3. E. 
Mason, 523. W. R. Pitman, 523-4. H. E. Ducker, 524, I. J. Kusel, 524. A. Young, 525. 
E. H. Corson, 525 (see also 577, 670-1). A. Bassett and J. G. Dean, 525-6 (see also 663-5). H. 
B. Hart, 526 (see also 660, 678). My unanswered letter to C. D. Kershaw, 526. A. Ely and 
W. G. Kendall, 526. Greatest American mileage in '85 : J. D. Macaulay's 6573 m. and C. 


H. Goodnow's soS^ta-t 5^7- J- Resmolds and wife, 528. W. E. Hicks*8 4679 m. m a news- 
gatherer in '85, s^S^ J. W. Bell's long stay in saddle, 529. F. P. Symonds, 529. J. V. 
Stephenson, 529-3a L. B. Graves, F. A. Elwell, A. B. Harkman, W. T. Willianu and E. P. 
Bamham, 53a Tri. record of yiM m. in '8j. by three merry wives of Orange, 530. (Electro, 
in Jan., '86; 25,500 words, ind. only 850 of coarse type. Pp. 501-7, from Springjuld H'htel- 
rntmU Gazette, Mar., '86.) 

XXXII. BRITISH AND COLONIAL RECORDS, 681-672 : Request that English 
press-men show fair-play towards my foreign contributors, 531. E. Tegetmeier, a London 
jovnafist, reports 10,053 m. covered in '83, and 46,600 m. in 13 years, 531-3. H. R. Reynolds, 
jr., an Oxford graduate of *8o and a lawyer, rides 55,930 m. in 9 years, chiefiy as an economical 
way of getting about, 533. " Faed,*' a wood-engraver, deaf and near-sighted, enjoys a daily 
open-air spin for 3 years, with only 75 exceptions, and makes a total of 19,388 m., 534-5. H. R. 
Goodwin, a Manchester jeweler, ukes a 19 days' tour of 2054 9., 535-7. J. W. M. Brown, a 
Lincolnshire fanner, rolls up 53,343 m. in a decade, 537-8. H. J. Jones, of the Haverstock C. 
C, coven 3600 m. of separate road, in a 3 years' record of 16,016 m., 538-40. Alfred Hayes, a 
London leather-dealer, reports 30,000 m. in 9 years, incl. 15,000 m. on a single 46-in. bicycle and 
more than 160 sucoessive Sunday rides, 540-1. R. P. Hampton Roberts's 16,060 m. of wheeling 
in 7 ycfus, tabulated by months and supplemented by other mileage records of the Belsize B. C, 
541-3. Reporu from H. T. Wharlow, 23,325 m. in 6J years; C. W. Brown, '7,043 m. in 4 
years; and W. Binns, a Salford draper, 22,147 "*• in ^\ years, 543. Monthly table of 12 years' 
ri«*i«»Kf 40,3 «9 "»•» by Rev. H. C. Courtney, Vicar of Hatton, 544. Seven years' record, 20,700 m , 
by J. S. Whatton, ex-capt. Camb. Univ. B. C, 544. F. Salsbury's 36 monthly tables of 
■7.499 m. in '8s-'84, 544-5- "Average accounts " from F. W. Brock, of Bristol, and G. H. 
Rosbworth, of Bradford, 545. Inexpensive 1 100 m. tour in '85 of a Glasgow University grad- 
uate, Hugh Callan, who won the Tit'Btis prize of $250 in '86, for best story of cyding experi- 
ences, amd who intends to print a book about them, 545-6. Diary for a decade, 14,107 m., of an 
Irish country gentleman, Wm. Bowles, 546. H. Etherington, projector and proprietor of 
WkeeliHg^ 546-8 (see also 689-90). H, Sturmey, editor of the Cyclist, 548-9 (see also 690-2). A. 
M. Bolton, author of " Over the Pyrenees," 549. C. Howard and R. £. Phillips, compilers of 
raote-hooks, 55a G. L. Bridgman, S. Golder and G. T. Stevens, 551. Tour in '83, London to 
Pesth, of Ivan Zmertych, a young Magyar, 551. Hugo Barthol's drcuit of 2750 m., June 8 to 
Atig. 31, '84, Saxony to Naples and back, 551-2. Road-riding reports from France, Holland 
and Hungary, 552-3, 558. Fadle-medal riders of '84, 553. Liverpool long-distance men of '85, 
553- Notable rides in '85 by C. H. R. Gossett, Mrs. J. H. Allen, and others, 554. London- 
to-Bath annual winners, '77 to '85, 554. Record of tours and races to and from John O'Groat's, 
*73 to *86, 554-7. Wonderful cros»-country wheeling by G. P. Mills, 556-8. Daniel's long tri. 
ride in France, 558. AUSTRALASIAN REPORTS, 668-570! Day's rides of room, in 
Victoria, 558-9. Tours of the Melbourne B. C, '79 to '84, 560. Tours by Adelaide and Bal- 
larat dob-men, '84 and '85, 560-1. W. Hume's circuit of 530 m. in '83 and straightaway of 
583 m., to Sydney, in '84, 561. Day's rides of 100 m., to close of '84, 561-2. Tri. tours in '85 
by young ladies of Ballarat and Stawell, 56a. G. R. Broadbent, a grandfather, wheels 17,600 m. 
in 3 years, 56a. R. O. Bishop's 3 years' record of 13,352 m. in Victoria and Tasmania, 563. 
Milage of T. F. Hallam, P. J. Bowen, and other riders of Hobart, 563-4, J. Copland's '84 
tri. tour of 13S2 m., Sydney to Melbourne and back, 564.5. S. to M. bi. rides by A. Edwards, 
G. L. Budds and J. F. Rugg, 565-6. The longest straightaway trail in Australia, 670 ro., 
Stswdl to Sydney, made in Mar., '86, by M. Thomfeldt and C. H. Lyne, 565-6. New 
Zealand** advantages for cycling, 566-7, 570 (see also 652). J. F. Norris's account of 242 m. 
lour in *iz, and of 100 m. riders in '84, 567. J. Fitton's 700 ro. tour at the dose of '83, 567-8. 
Long rides from CHiristchurch- by H. J. Jenkins and F. W. Painter, 568-9. W. H. Lang- 
down's 13 months' record of 8940 m. on a single bicycle, including a tour of 558 m. in the 
aatomn of ^85, 569-70. Guide-books f6r the Antipodes, 570 (see also 695-6). Conclusion of T. 
Stevens's roond-the-world tour : Persia, Afghanistan, India, China and Japan, Mar. to Dec, 
*^% 5y<«- (Pp. 530-53 were ejectrotyped in Feb., '86; pp. 554-69 in Nov. ; pp. 570-a in Jaa., 


Oct.,6s— 2013 ; Nov., 82 — 2095; Dec, 177 — 2272; Jan., 1 12 — 2384; Feb., 113 — 2497; Mar., 
149—2646; Apr., 139 — 2787; May, loi — 2888; June, 87 — 2975; July, 128 — 3103; Aug., 46 — 
3149; Sept., 43— 319a; Oct., 37— 3229; Nov., 35— 3264; Dec, 54— 33 '8; Jan., 39— 3357; 
Feb., 25—3382 ; Mar., 36—3418 ; Apr., 108—3526. From May i to Dec 31, *86, there were 50 
accessions, at $1.50, raising the total of the "autograph edition " to 3576. (Electro, in Feb., 
*86 ; about 19,000 words. See pp. 794-6, for supplementary list of aoo names.) 

Xl. DIRECTORY OF WHEELMEN, 765-799: Names of 3200 subscribers, 
grouped according to residence-towns, which are alphabetized by States, in the following geo- 
graphical order : Me., 15 towns, 45 subscribers, 765 ; N. H., 14 t., 50 s., 766 ; Vt., 14 t., 47 s., 
766; Mass., 89 t., 341 s., 766; R. I., 5 t.,2os., 769; Ct., 32 t., 171 s., 769; N. Y., 106 t, 67c 
% , 770; N. J., 55 t., 257 s., 776; Pa., 96 t., 38a 8., 778; Del., 2 t., 4 s., 781 ; Md., 8 t., 81 a., 
781 ; Dlst. of Col, 2 t, 37 s., 782 ; W. Va., 4 t., 6 s., 782 ; Va., 10 1., x^ s., 78a ; N. C, a t., 
6 s., 782 ; S. C, 2 t., 4 s., 7S2 ; Ga., 4 t., ti s., 782 ; Fla., 2 t., 2 s., 783 ; Ala., 4 1., 12 s., 783 ; 
Miss., 3 t., 4 s., 783 ; La., t t., 5 s., 783 ; Tex., 6 t, 9 s., 783 ; Ark., 2 t., 7 s., 783 ; Tenn., 3 t., 
26 8., 783 ; Ky., 15 t., 53 8., 783 ; O., 48 t., 154 s., 784 ; Mich., 21 t., 66 s., 785 ; Ind., 21 t., 60 
»., 785 ; m., 25 t., 116 s., 786-7 ; Mo., 8 t., 25 s., 787 ; la., 14 t., 20 s., 787 ; Wis., tt t., 16 a., 
787; Minn., 13 t., 22 s., 787; Dak., 3 t., 5 s., 788; Neb., 2 t., 2 s., 788; Kan., 14 t., 21 s., 788: 
(Ind. Ter., o); N. Mex., i t., i s., 788 ; Col., 4 t, 9 s., 788 ; Wy., 3 t., 9 s., 788 ; Mon.. 3 t., 
6 8., 788 ; Id., 2 t., 14 s., 788 ; Wash., 3 t., 3 s., 788 ; Or., 8 t., 28 s., 788; Utah, 2 t., 7 a., 788 ; 
(Nev., ot.,os,,789); Ariz., i t., t s,, 789; Cat., 9 1., 2a s., 789; Ontario, ax t., 79 s., 789; Mani- 
toba, It, I 8., 790 ; Quebec, i t., 5 s., 790 ; New Brunswick, 2 t., 6 s., 790; Nova Scotia, 9 1., 
37 8., 790; Bermuda, 3 t., 5 s., 790; Mexico, 1 1., i s., 790; England, 61 t., 138 s., 790; Scot- 
land, 6 1., 12 8., 792 ; Ireland, 5 t., 7 s., 792 ; Continental Europe, 9 1., 9 s., 792 ; Asia, 4 t., 
4 s., 792 ; Australia, 12 t., 86 s., 793 ; New Zealand, 5 t., 24 s., 794. Supptetntntary List 0/ 
SMbscrihets (Feb. to Nov., '86), 794-6. Trade Directory: Alphabetical list of 122 subscribers 
in whose offices this book may be consulted, 796-7. Geographical list of the same, 798-9. 
(Electro. March to May, *86, except last six pages in Nov, ; 22,000 words.) 

XLI. THE LAST WORD, 800: Pinaforic chant at the League's first annual ban- 
quet, Newport, May 31, '80. (Electro, in Nov., *86; 100 words.) 

A summing-up of the estimates for the 41 chapters shows a total of 585,400 words, whereof 
362,400 arc in fine type (** nonpareil **) and 223,000 in larger type ("brevier **). I have esti- 
mated the latter at 600 words to the page (44 lines of 14 words each), and the nonpareil at 900 
words .to the page (53 lines of 17 words each), except that the 66 pages devoted to sulncribefs' 
names have been credited with 18,400 words less than the latter estimate would give them. 
The half-dozen blank lines at the top of each chapter, and the short blanks at ends of pant- 
graphs, are fully offset by the repetitions of chapter-titles at the tops pf pages. Owing to the 
great number of abbreviations in last ten chapters, I think their number of nonpareil words ex- 
ceeds the estimate, — for my actual count of p. 497 revealed 1088 words. On the other hand, 
the brevier words may fall a trifle short of the estimate, — for actnal count of p. 3 58 revealed only 
573- My printers have charged me with 372 brevier pages ; and a multiplication of that num- 
ber by 600 shows 223,200 words, or almost exactly the result gained by adding the chapter esti- 
mates. Of the 311,600 words in ftrat 29 chapters (472 pp.), all but 92,600 are in brevier; while, 
of the 27S>Soo words in last 12 chapters (328 pp.), which may be classed as an appendix, only 
4000 are in brevier. My own road-reports and wheeling experiences are almost all indnded in 
the x8t,ooo brevier words of the first 26 chapters (390 pp.), which also contain 77,000 nonpareil 
words, mostly given to others' reports and general information. In Chaps. 30-33 (pp. 473-590) 
are 104,850 words, almost wholly given to others' perronal statistics ; and Chaps. 34-37 (pp; 591- 
699) contain 97,550 words of general information. Of the 273,^00 words in last 12 chapters, the 
29,400 in Chap. 38 are the only ones personal to myself. Adding these to the 6800 brevier 
words of Chap. 27, and the i8r,ooo before specified, gives a total of 217,200 words which refer 
m acme way to my own wheeling. Even if the r 1,000 words about " Curl," and the 20,000 
brevier words about " the Castle," be charged to me as " personal," my entire share in the book 
rises to only 248,200 words, which is much less than half its text (585,400). 


Chaptbk-Titlss are printed in small capitals aVid followed by Roman numerals referring 
to Table of Contents, where full analysis of chapter may be found. References are sometimes 
given in the order of their importauce, rather than in numerical order. Such States of the 
Union as are not named here are indexed among " The United States," p. IviiL Other special 
indexes are made prominent by full-faced type. 

AbbrevlatloitB of iha U. S., with index for 
each Slate, hriii. 

Abstinence from fire-water and tobacco, Cases 
of, 62. 128, 532, 537, 544- 

Accidents {see " Incidents '*). 

Address-list of 28,000 American cyclers, 661. 

Advertising, Exclusion of from book, for sake 
ctf impartiality, 714; specimens of calendars 
and catalogues, 679 ; rates in cycling papers, 
656, 696. {See " Free advertising.") 

Aftkr Bksii (Teises), 15. 

Agriculture as a basis of prosperity, 301. 

ADegory of the New Year, "1869," 391. 

Alnwick Castle, Bone-shakers at, 391, 404. 

"Amsteniism '* as defined by L. A. W., 
6»4, 633 ; by A. C. U., 63a ; by C. W. A., 
635 ; by N. C. U., 638. Folly of attempted 
aodal distinctions in racing, shown by 
Wketimg and J. R. Hogg, 628. Expul- 
sion of all the swift racing men as social in- 
feriors, 629, 649. Supporters of the scheme 
satirized by the London Baij 6jo. 

"American CyeUsti* Union" (A. C. t7.)t 
62S-33 : Advent of, as a refuge for the 
League's expelled " amateurs," 631. Con- 
stitution, officers and government, 631. 
Definitions of social standing, 632. Scheme 
for an " international alliance " of racing 
men, 633. 

American Division of C. T. C, 636, 642-4. 

Anecdote of Gen. Grant, 724. 

Answers for the curious, 4. 

Architecture of Fifth Avenue, 453 ; of the 
University Building, 428-34. 

Aristocracy in America, 396, 448, 453. 
i Artists and ilinstrations, 258, 268, 270, 271, 

a79. 366, 39«>*>, 397, 407, 656-60, 662, 665- 
7S. 679*>» 683-93- 

A«iA, T. Stevens's ride across, 480-3, 570-2. 

Asphalt pavements, Superiority of, 584, 588. 

Australia, 558-66 : Books and papers, 570. 
"Cyclists' Union," 652. Journalism, 696. 
Road-races, 559-64. Subscribers to book, 
558, 706, 793-4. Touring, 560-6. 

Austria: C. T. C. Members, 636-7 ; roads, 
4S1, 55»» 55^. 

Authors and Books quoted by me, Index 
to, Ixxvii. ; Reciprocation and corrections 
asked for, 7 18. 

Autobiographies of Wheelmen, 473-573 \ 
My difficulties in procuring them, 502-3 ; 
Index to, Ixxi. Index to my own autobiog- 
raphy and history of book, Ixxix. 

Autumn scenic impressions in my 1400 m. 
tour, 299-305. 

"Average man," My attempts to report 
wheeling of and for the, 502, 531. 

Badges: C. T. C, 639; C. W. A., 635; 
Central Park, 94, 585 ; L. A. W., 616 ; N. 
C. U.,650. 

Baggage-carrying, 13, 17, 308, 384. 

Baggagemen : awed by nickel-plate, 20 ; Civil 
treatment of, 597; Fees for, 86, 96, 221, 
596 ; Remedy for extortion, 595, 59S. 

Bags objectionable on a bicycle, 17. 

Bartlelt's (Gen. W. F.) manly message of 
forgiveness to the South, 386. 

Basaltic columns at Orange, 174. 

Bates (President), on political power of 
League, 621 ; on reform of League govern- 
ment, 626 ; on racing and amateurism, 629, 
633. Biography of, 505-6. 

Bath-tubs and quiet bed-rooms in country 
hotels, A plea for, 614. 

Battlefields, Monuments and Land- 
marks : Annapolis, 285. Anlietam, 384. 
Bergen, 169. Blue Lick Spring, 233. Brook- 
lyn, 158. Bull Run, 375. Centerville, 374. 
Clinton, 132. Fisher's Hill, 345, 383. Forts 
Lee and Washington, 72. Gettysburg, 385-6. 



Goshen, 143. Great Bethel, 439. Green- 
wich, 139. Harper's Ferry, 241,384. Jer- 
sey City, 16S. Lake George, 185-7. Leete's 
Island, 132. Lexington, 103, 386. Morris- 
town, 163. Newburg, 171. New York, 158. 
Perryville, 228. Saratoga, 186. Sharps- 
burg, 384. Sheffield, 147. South Mount- 
ain, 23S. Springfield, 127. Staten Island, 
158. Tarrytown, 76. Ticonderoga, 186. 
West Springfield, 127. While Plains, 74. 
Winchester, 345, 383. Wyoming, 2aa 
Yonkers, 78. 

Bays and Gulfs, Index to, Ixi. 

Bed-bugs at the " danger-board hotels of the 
C. T. C," 639-41 ; at the Mar>'land canal 
house, 239 ; in Australia, 566. 

Bed-rooms, Sunlight, quiet, good air and bath- 
tubs wanted for, 6oa, 612, 614. 

Beginners, Books of advice for, 678. 

Belgium : C. T. C. members, 656. Cycling 
Union, 651, 700. Free entry for cycles, 599. 
Journals, 699. Tours, 522, 546, 549. 

Belts, My dislike of, 18, 22. 

Bermuda, The Coral Reefs of, 353-70, 
»iv., 592, 790. 

Bicycles, Index to makes of, Ixxviii. 

Bicycling : as a bridge to social intercourse, 
5, 14, 729; as a chance for character-study, 
3i 5i <o> x'i 729; ^3 ^ cui^ ^^"^ malaria, 
292, 308 ; as an introduction-card, 14, 730 ; 
as a solace for the solitary, 14, 34, 255, 309, 
729 ; as a source of health, 53, 258, 278, 295, 
537, 565, 685-6, 688 ; as a token of sincerity, 
14, 7or, 729. Business advantages of, 501, 
S07> 5*<^> 534f 528. Cost of four years, 41. 
Elation in long-distance riding, 303. Enthu- 
siasm for. Unique power of the, vi., 484, 705. 
Freedom, the distinctive charm of, 255, 472. 
Gracefulness of, 6. 

Biographies, Index to contributors', Ixxl 
Birthday Fantasib (verse), 22. 

Birthdays, Index to, Ixxi. Request for, 

Blue Ridge in a thunder-storm. My four-mile 

descent of the, 380. 
Boat-race management at New London, 130. 
Bonb-Shakbr Days, 391-406, xi v., 523, 541, 

543 • 547- 
Book of Mine, and the Nbxt (This), 

701-331, xix., Ixxxi. 
Books and Pamphlets on Cycling: Lists 
of American, in the market Aug. i, *86, 
655. Descriptions and reviews of, 672-80. 

Continental publications, 696-700). Englidi 
books and maps, 6S1-S. Record-keeping, 
Blanks for, 676-7. Index to all the fore- 
going, Ixxiv. Index to authors, publishers 
and printers of the same, IxxvL 

Books quoted or referred to by me. Index to 
non-cycling, Ixxvi. ; index to authors of the 
same, Ixxvii. 

Boots and shoes, 18, ai. 

Boston, Out from, 101-114, x. : Books and 
papers of cycling, 654-9, 662-5, 673-80. 
Clubs, 105, 767, 793. Hotels and horse- 
cars, 105. Indifference to my subscription 
scheme, 704, 70S. Irish sea-coast settle- 
ment, 372. Landmarks, 105-6. League 
parades at, 371, 616, 618. Maps and 
guides, 1 12-13. Pemberton and ScoUay 
squares contrasted, 104-5. Police ineffi- 
ciency at, 371, 616. Prince-of-Wales pro- 
cession, 471. Road-book, in, 677. Scene 
of my learning the bi. (March 28, 1879), ^S* 

Breeches vs. trousers as an " extra," 17, aa. 

Bridges, Bicycling on the big, 87, 203, 225. 

Bristed's (C. A.) admirable defense of indi- 
vidual freedom, 727-8. 

British and Colonial Records, 531-72, 

Brokerage in the New York Custom House 
explained in detail, 368-9. 

Brooklyn: Clubs, 97, 586; Ferries, 87-S, 
97 ; Prospect Park, 89, 92, 585 ; Routes to 
and through, 86-90. 

Bugle calls and tactics, Books on, 679. 

Bull Run, Luray Cavern and Gbttvs- 
BURG, 371-90, xiv., 348, 350-1. 

California : Danger signal against League 
hotels in, 609. League road-book of, 625, 
799. Touring routes, 475-61 489-94^ Wel- 
come to T. Stevens, 572, 

Camel-trails in Asia, 480. 

Campobello, Our afternoon 00. 2701. 

Canada, My Fortnight in, 3 10-32, xiii. : 
A. C. U.'s claim to, 631. Cursed by cheap 
hotels, 603, 320. Deplorable custonns regu- 
lations, 311, 324, 575- New Brunswick 
references, 265, 270, 274, 790. Nova Scotia 
touring, a82-94. Prince Edward Island, 
290. Quebec to Montreal, 575. Subscrib- 
ers to this book, 789^^ Superiority of 
roads, 297. Support of C. T. C, 636-7. 
Tameness of scenery, 301. 

"Canadian Wheelmen's Association'' (C. 
W. A.), 633-636 : Badge and motto. 635 ; 



Constitution and government, 634 ; Defini- 
doDs of aodal itatus, 635; Finances and 
DUfimbershtp, 635 ; Founders, 634 ; Monthly 
organ, 635, 659, 669-70; Road-book, 3is-«9. 
336-7, 330, 636, 677. Railroads on free 
lists, S9S- 

CabsIs, Index to, bdv. {JSet " Tow-path. '0 

Castlb Soutudb in the Mbtmopous 
(x. e., the University Building), 426-72, xv. 

Catt' tieatment by dogs, 4091 4>6, 425. 

Cemeteries, Index to, bdv. 

Charm of bicycling, iv., t, 14, 472, 729. 

Cheap and nasty hotel-system not economical, 
606; condemned by C.T.C. 8ufferere,639-4o. 

dargymen : Air of condescension, 727. 
Prises for essays 00 wheeling, 658. Rela- 
tionship to coUege foundations, 435. Tour 
u Canada, 323-4 ; in Europe, 499. Veloci- 
pediats in '69, 391, 403. Wheeling reports, 
37«. 512, 544, 5^ 

Clothes, 13, 16-22, 307-8, 475, 485, 494. S**, 
546, 537, 55a. 565. 

cubs (index, Ixiit.) : Directory of Ameri- 
can, 765-90. Drill books for, 679. Goy's 
Directocy to English, 638. Formation of 
proves the sociability of cycling, 14. Houses 
in Baltimore, 590 ; Boston, 105, 767 ; New 
York tod Brooklyn, 96-7, 586; Philadel- 
phia, 5S9; St. Louis, 652 ; Washington ,590. 

Coaching on the old National Pike, 243 ; as 
imitated on the tally-ho, iv., 281, 396. 


OoUeges (index, Ixii.), as abodes of the only 
real aristocracy in America, 396 ; Conduct 
of yooth at N. Y. U., 429; Endowments, 
435*7; Finances of , 437 ; Newspaper treat- 
ment of, 397 ; Religious control of, 435. 

(Colombia CoUege, References to, 131, si6, 

"CoLUMraA, No. 234," 35-48, X- : Axle, 37, 
40, 45, 46. Backbone, 39, 40, 43. Bear- 
>BS*} 37> 40, 4*' Brake, 40, 42. Bushing, 
40. Cam-bolts, 40. Cranks, 36, 40, 46. 
Handle-bar, 43, 45, 46, 306. Head, 43. 
Hub, 40. Mileage memorial placard, 48. 
Neck, 38, 40- Nickeling, 38, 40, 43- Oil 
cups, 37. Overlapping, 43. Pedal-pins, 
45, 47. Pedals, 37, 47. Rawhide bearings, 
43, 336k " Rebuilding " plans abandoned, 
47. Repairs, Cost of, 41- Rims, 45, 46, 350. 
Saddles. 37, 45- Spokes, 38, 45, 46, 350. 
Spring, 37, 43- Step, 39. Tires, 36, 37, 38, 
47, 48. Wrecked by runaway mules, 44. 

Concierge in Paris, Tyranny of the, 458. 

Connecticut, Shore and Hili^top in, 129* 
149, xi., 248-54 (index, 581) ; League road- 
book of, 625. {See " New Haven,»» " Yale 

Contents-Table, ix.-xx. 

Contrasts between bicycling and other modes 
of long-distance travel, 303. 

Contributon' Becbrds, Index to, bcxL ; 
Rules for, 717. 

0>uvicts as road-builders, 355, 563. 

Corduroy, Praise of, 19, 21, 307. 

Costumes for touring, 16-22, 307-8, 475, 485, 
494, 508, 537, 55a, 565- 

Creeks and Brooks, Index to, Ud. 

Curl, the Best of Bull-Dogs, 407-25, xv. ; 
Allusions to, 305, 393, 471 ; Photo-gravure 
of (fadng title-page). 

Custom-Hoiise rules as to cycles : Bel- 
gium, free entry ordered Feb. 6, '84, 599. 
Bermuda, discretionary, 358. Canada, pro- 
hibitory red-tape, Aug. 5, '81, 3 1 1. France, 
varying practice, 599, 600. (Germany, vary- 
ing practice, 599. Holland, free entry, 

599. Italy, free entry ordered June 16, '85, 

600. Mexico, ten cents a pound gross 
weight, 600. Switzerland, varying practice, 
591, United States, free entry ordered Apr. 
9> 'S4> 370 ; ^i^t classed as carriage, instead 
of machinery, May 29, *77» 25- 

Customs officers. Experiences with, 282,311, 
324. 333. 358, 368-70, 518, 575. 

"Cyclists' Touring Club" of England 
(C. T. C), 636-646 : "Amateurism," Defi- 
nitions of, 638, 643. American support, 
636, 642-4 ; allusions to, 619. Badges and 
uniform, 639. " B. T. C." as first named, 
615, 636, 644. Bi. World's notices of, 602-4, 
643-4. Onada, Slight support given by, 
636, 643. Chief Consuls, 636, 645. " Co- 
operative tailoring concern," 641. Coun- • 
cil of 125 is constituted, How the, 636-7. 
Councilors in Apr., '86, List of, 645. 
"Creed" of L. A. W. vs. C. T. C, 644. 
Custom-House reforms attempted, 599, 600. 
Danger-board hotels, 602-4, 639-41. Dan- 
ger-boards, 643-4, 651. Divisions, Size of 
the 37, 636. Executive power all lodged 
in the Secretary, 64s. Finance committee, 
638. Finances in the U. S.,643. Finan- 
cial report of '85 analyzed, 641. Foreijcni 
members, '^Amateurism " of, 638. Forgery 
confessed in court by the Secretary-Editor, 



IzaocuL GoMtiU^ Th« official, 641, 687, 691, 
Izxxix. Government, Abstract of seventy 
rules for, 637-& Handbook, 682, 637, 687. 
Hotel poUcy denounced by Wheeling and 
Bi. IVffrtd, 602-4, 641 ; by other sufferers, 
639-40 ; tariff shown in detail, 607. Humor- 
ous schemes for "a great future in the U. 
S.," 643-4. " International " pretensions, 
644. League tolerates C. T. C. in U. S. 
only as a social sentiment, 642, 644. Life 
memberships, 644. London region supplies 
a third of the membership, 636. Maps, 6S3. 
Meetings, 637, 642. Membership statistics, 
636. Journalism denounced, by the pre- 
siding judge of a London law-court, as 
" the lowest and vulgarest abuse," xci. 
N. C. U., Affiliations with, 638, 646, 648. 
Officers, Election of, 637 ; in U. S., 645 ; 
list of iu Apr., '86, 646. Publications, 638, 
642, 6S7-8, 691. Quorum, 642. Railroads, 
Tariff for, 598. Renewal list, 638, 688. 
Representative Councilors, 636, 645. Road- 
book promised for '87, 642, 687. Secretary- 
Editor, Appointment, salary and duties of, 
637-8 ; autocratic power of, 642 ; compla- 
cency of, as to badges, hotels and Gazette^ 
639, 641, 691 ; portrait gallery of, 691 ; repri- 
manded in court for literary forgery, xci. 
State consuls in America, List of, 643. 
Tailoring and trading accounts, 641. Tanff 
of hotels, 607; r. r.'s., 598. Unimpor- 
tant allusions, 601-8, 615-16, 619, 665, 667, 
669, 681-88, 693-5, 699-7«>t 765- Usurpa- 
tion of League functions resented, 644. 
Voting for officers, System of, 637. Weak- 
ness of perambulatory Coundl, 642. Wheels 
trie's criticisms of, 602, 639, 641. Women 
members, 638. 

Cyclometen : Butcher, 114, 127, 135, 147, 
322, 374, 482, 500, 506-8, 511, 517, 519-21, 
524, 526, 528, 529, 530. Church, 524. Ex- 
celsior, 128, 138, 189, 508-11, 524, 528, 666, 
714. Hernu, 546, 555. Lakin, 378, 50S, 
524, 526-8, 797, 799. Lamson, 506. Liv- 
ingston, 714. McDonnell, 138, 149, 237, 
348, 335, 3^> 484* 50S. S09> 5io> 5>if 5i2> 
513, 5»5-7. 5«9-»o, 524, S27-30» 553. 569. 575» 
714. Pope, 24, 135. 5o8» 5". 5»3i S»7i Sao, 
523, 581. Ritchie Magnetic, 172, 507, 511, 
523. Spalding, 499, 508. Suntoo, 508. 
Thompson, 517, 533. Underwood, 508. 
Wealemefna, 533, 532. 

DisUnces, " U. S. Army " Table of, 680. 

D«lftWftre (index, 589). 

Denmark : C. T. C. members, 636-7. 

Directory of Whebumbn, 765-99{, xx. 

DlBtrictof ColumbU (index, 590). 

Dog as a companion in touring, 562, 565. 

Dogs, Anecdotes of, iu biography ol *' Curl, 
the best of buU-dogs," 407-25. 

Down-East Fogs, In the, xii., 255-81. 

Down-Elast tours of '84-'85, 573-4. 

Drill books for bugle, tactics and singing, 68ow 

Electrotyping, Dates of, ix.-xx., 710. 

England and tho English, 444^8, 530-69, 
636-51, 688-96, 790-94. "Amateurism " 
satirized by the Baty 6sp. Aristocracy in 
the newspapers, Treatment of, 396. Auto- 
biographies of wheelmen, 531-45, 547-58. 
Book of bi.-tour made by Americans in 
'79* 673. Books and pamphlets on cycling, 
68i-8. Class distinctions, 446-7. Conven- 
tional attempts at " naturahkesa," 448. 
Crystal Palace dog show of '72. 405. Cy- 
clists' Touring Club, 636-46, 681 («r# spe- 
cial index, '* C. T. C"). " Danger-board 
hotels' of C. T. C," Testimony of sufferers 
at, 604, 639-41- Diet of tourists, 537, 544. 
Evolution of bicycle from bone-shaker, 402. 
Halifax has an English atmosphere, 292. 
Hogg's (J. R.) exposure of "amateur- 
ism," 649. Humor in wheel literature. 
Ideal of, 693. Individuality, Obliteration 
of, 445-8. Journalism of cycling, 547-8, 
688-95. 706. Land's End to John O'Groat's, 
536, 554-7' London, 426-7, 436 (j»r spe- 
cial index). Longest 19 days' ride, 535-6. 
Longest year's record, 53 1-2, 558. Manners 
and customs in social life, 444-8. Maps, 
681-7. ^y '76 tour which never took place, 
406. Narrow-mindedness of business-men, 
484. National Cyclists' Union, 646-51 (ute 
special index, " N. C. U."). Newspaper 
gossiper sent to jail by Lord Coleridge, 280. 
Newspap>er prattle about the nobility and 
gentry, 396. Prince of Wales's visit to 
America, 469-71- Racing, 532-44, 547, 553-4- 
Racing men. Wheeling's social classifica- 
tion of, 629. Railroad and s. s. rates for cy- 
cles, 598-9. . " Rights and Liabilities of Cy- 
clists," Law book on, 684-5. Road-books 
and guides, 550, 68 1-8. Road races, 532-44, 
553-8. Self-suppression the supreme law, 
445. Servitude to servants,4 44-7. Snobbery 
of the middle classes shown by " amateur- 
ism," 650, '• Society of Cyclists," Dr.Rich- 



ardaoa'a, 647. Social conditions shown by 
iDo-keq>ing customs and ideals, 602; by 
abosive personalities of cycling press, 695. 
Subscribers to this book, Attraction of, 
706; Names of, 790-a. Subscribers to 
lVhe€lm€aCs GagttUy 662. Sunday riding. 
Statistics of, S4«-a. "Tri, Association" 
and "Tri. Union," in N. C. U., 647. 
Wheeling biographies, 472-3. Worship of 
wealth, 446. Wales, Touring in, 673, 681. 
Yates (£.) sent to jail for libel, 280. 

" Er" abetter termination than " ist," 673-4, 

Ebib Canal and Lakb Erib, Ths, 199- 
aoS, xL 

Evarts as a talker for business only, 724. 

Eiemirtion from duty for tourists' cycles en- 
tering the United States, How my Ber- 
muda trip brought, -jfA-io. 

Szpendituxes: Baggage and express, 41. 
Bermuda trip, 364. Custom-House charges,* 
599-600. £!t»w-breaking, 35. Elwell'stour, 
357. Fees to baggagemen, 86, 96, 221, 596. 
Horse-scaring in '69, 395. Mammoth Cave, 
331. Nova Scotia hotels, 288, and tour, 
292. Repairs of machine, 41. Riding- 
dothes, 41. Scotch tourist, 546. Veloci- 
pedes of '69, 400. 

Fathers and sons as cyclers, 494, 517, 521, 
5*4,531, 564- 

FMI : A. C. U., 631 ; C. T. C, 638, 643 ; 
L. A. W., 624; N. C. U., 647, 649; Bag- 
gagemen, 86, 96, 221, 596; Ferries, 96; 
Horse-car lines, 86. 

Fifth Avenue, N. Y., 65, 451-4, 583. 

First bicyde ride iu America, 330 ; in United 
States, 406. 

First "thousand-mile trail," 304, 532, 549, 


Food of long-distance riders, 480, 537. 

Fording the New Zealand rivers, 568. 

Foreign ConatriBS, Index to, Iviii. 

Fortnight in Ontario, A, 310-32, xiii. 

Forty Days Straightaway, 294-309, xiii. 

Fotnr names for cyclers to honor, 370. 

Four Skasons on a Forty-Six, 24-34, x. 

France and the French: Autocratic rule 
of the concierge, 458. Books and papers, 
69S-9. Cycles at the custom house, 599, 
6oa C. T. C. members, 636. Hatred of 
originality, 468. Invention of cycling in 
olden time, x. Lallement at Ansonia and 
New Haven, X39>42, 394- Long-distance 

rides, 5S2-3, 558. Maps, 682. Paris, Allu- 
sions to, 2, 99, 280, 403, 406, 426, 448, 45S-9, 
480, 545, 551, 558, 563, 611, 64s, 651, 695-9, 
792. Racing free from "amateurism," 
628. Railroad rates, 599. Social ideals, 
46S. Stevens's ride, 480. Subscribers to 
this book, 792. Union V^loclp^dique, 651, 
6;>8. Velocipeding in '68, 390, 403. 
" Free Advertising " : Explanation and de- 
fense of the policy, 653, 707, 718. Gained 
by authors and publishers from my scheme, 
6531 718; by hotels which give their best 
treatment to wheelmen, 602, 607, 609, 612, 
614; by hotels which subscribe for this 
book, 605 ; by r. r. and s. s. routes which 
class cycles as baggage, 591 ; by this book 
from the cycling press, 704-9, 718-19; by 
wheel literature, 653. Given by Bi. World 
as League organ, 6x8 ; by the Pope Mfg. Co. 
to the trade in general, 659, 679 ; by racing 
men to cycles which win, 628; by T. Ste- 
vens to (he trade in general, 484 ; by trades- 
men to cycling books and papers, 653. 
Neglected chance at Coventry, 6S4. St. 
Louis sarcasms in Am^ Wheelman., 671. 

" Froth and foam," Racers likened to, v. 

Genealogy as a scientific study, 722. 

Geographical miscellany (index, Ixiii.). 

Oermany and the QermanB: Barthol's 
(H.) 2S00 m. tour of '84, 551-2. Books and 
papers, 697. C. T. C. members, 636-7. 
Cycles at the custom house, 599. Fiske's 
(G. F.) tour, 522. L. A. W. members, 
617-18. Roads, 480-1, 522, 551-2. Ste- 
vens's (T.) ride, 480-1. Subscribers to this 
book, 792. Wheelmen's Union, 651, 697. 

Ghostly wheelmen in the fog, 268. 

Gloves, My preference as to, 18, 733. 

Gossip, Distinctions between verbal and 
printed, 280; American collegians and 
English nobility lied about by newspapers 
for similar reasons, 296-7. 

Grandfather's cycling record of 17,600 miles 
in three years, 1883-5, An Australian, 562. 

Grandfather's luckless contract as a cycling- 
path builder, in 1825, My maternal, 180. 

Grant's (Gen.) sagacity as to personal peril, 
Anecdote of, 724. 

Great American Hog, The, 10, 596, 615, 621 ; 
Road law for checking, 584, 680. 

Greeting : to my 3000 Co-partners (verses), 

Halifax, Pleasant impressions of, 292. 



Hamerton's (P. G.) reflections on solitude 
and independence, 467-9. 

Haryard College : Banlett's (Gen. W. F.) 
noble speech at, in 1874, 386. Buildings, 
434-5' Guide book to, 1 13. Jealousy of 
Yale, 35, 256. Newspaper lies about, 397. 
Stupidity as to boat-race management at 
New London, 131. Successful financial 
policy, 437. Unimportant allusions, loi, 
>03» 494» 5 Ml 658, 665, 767. Velocipeding 
in '69, 403. 

Hats and caps for touring, 18. 

Health is won by cycling. Books showing 
how, 685-6, 688. 

Healtli fulness of cycling, Examples of the, 
53, 258, 278, 295. 537, 565- 

Hills and Mountains, index to, Ix. 

Historical Statistics : Bermuda, 354-7. 
Brooklyn Bridge, 86. Central Park, 92-5. 
Long Island, 155. New Haven, 132 ; 
Velocipeding at, 400-2. New York City, 
Settlement of, 64; University of, 433-5, 
437-8. Prince Edward Island, 290. Pros- 
pect Park, 89. Shenandoah Valley, 346-8. 
Staten Island, 155. Washington Square, 

64-S. 432-4- 

Hog who thinks the roads of this continent 
are his private property ijue " Porcus 
A mericanus "). 

Holland and the Dutch: C. T. C. mem- 
bers, 636-7. Cyclers' Union, 651, 700. 
Free entry for cycles, 599. Long day's 
ride, 553. Subscriber, 792. Tour, 532. 
Wheel literature, 700. 

Holland (Dr. J G.) as " the American Tup- 
per," Carl Benson's exposure of, 728-9. 

Honor these four ! 370. 

Horseback traffic in Kentucky, 226 ; traveler 
in Europe beaten by bicycler, 558. 

Horses, Cyclers' treatment of, 10 ; Runaways 
never caused by my bicycle, 57; Various 
allusions to, 237, 293, 321, 380, 395, 529, 
566, 571. 

Hotels, The Question of, 601-14, xviii., 
'639-41, Ivii. : Alphabetical list of, 146. Bath- 
tubs wanted at, 601, 602, 614. Clerk's in- 
solence rebuked, 338. Constraint of life at, 
450. Index to those named in this book, 
612. Overcrowded by touring parties, 320. 
Recommendations of, 201, 221, 231, 238, 
331, 345, 348, 381. Where this book may 
be consulted, 609. Women patrons of, 
442, 450. Women waiters at, 13. 

Hudson and Lake Gbokgb, 179-98, xi. 

Humors of the Boad : Acadians* picnk 
in the rain, 283. Astonishment at the 
novel vehicle, 8, 272, 379. Australians' 
greetings, 560. Binghamton B. C's coa- 
tempt for my long-distance trophy, 30& 
Brave passenger and his apology. The, 
380. Car-drivers' repartee, 105. Cartoons 
of velocipeding, 390. Coaching-club pho|og- 
raphers take my back for a background, 
281. Compliments from the Small Boy, 6, 
'3f 48, 54- Cooking chickens in Viiiginia, 
350. Diffident introductions, 3. Dogs, 18, 
i40» 565. Facetiousness of the Erie canal* 
lers, 8-9. Forced to mount the mail-coach, 
560. Free-lunch at East Machias, 271. 
Froggingin the Shenandoah, 383. Good' 
bye chortle to the charmers of Calair, 
266. Great American Hog, The, 10, 596, 
615, 621. "Journalism" on the border, 
263. Larrigans for the Blue Noses, 265. 
Martinetism on Mt. Desert, 275-8. Mis- 
taken for an undertaker, 195. Newspaper 
lies about Rosenbluih's horse, 397 ; theo- 
ries as to " riding in the rain," 263. Re^ 
torts courteous, 8-1 1, 265, 396, 568. Scissors- 
grinding, Request for, 225. Scouring the 
Connecticut River tow-path, in search of 
" my lost inheritance," 180. " Watdiing 
for the circus " (me in Me ), 264. Women's 
wayside rudeness, 9, 11. World-wide ad- 
vice to T. Stevens, 477. 

Hundred mile road-race of '85 in Canada, 
320-2 ; English annual, '77 to '85, 554, 534-3, 
538 ; Reference to Boston, 516. 

Hungarian tourists, 481, 551, 553, 79a. 

Ice velocipede of '69, 404. 

"Impressions'*: Bermuda, 365. Gettys- 
burg, 385,-6. Hahfax, 292. Litchfield, 142. 
London, 406, 425, 448. Luray, 381-2. 
Mammoth Cave, 232, 381. New York 
Harbor, 99. Peniberton Square, 104. To- 
ronto, 318. Washington Square, 432-3. 

Incidents and Accidents (^^ special index, 
Ixxxiii.; also, " Humors of the Road"). 

India, T. Stevens's 1400 mile ride through, 
in the summer of '86, 571-2. 

Indiana: League membership, 617-18. Road- 
book, 625. Road-reports from 5 counties, 
235. Subscribers, 785-6. Tours, 479, 486-$, 
519. IVhttfnutCs Record^ xciii. 

Indian chief's longing, The, 295, 731. 

India-rubber cloth for luggage-roll, aa ; cops 



and poadies, z8, 57 ; drinking-tubes, 22 ; 
ovenbocs, ai; soles unsoited for touring, 

Institutions, Minor Cycunc, 633-52, x. 

Inventions and patents, 520, 526, 550. 

IPBlaiid and the Irish: Author in Amer- 
ica, 674. Boll-dog fanciers, 406, 409. " C. 
T. C hotels " denounced, 640. Dublin and 
Killamey," Faed*s " trips to, xcv. Journal- 
ism, 654, 695. Maps, 6S2-3. Members 
of C. T. C, 645-6, 688. Pamphlet of 
tour in England, 686. Racing governed by 
I.e. A., 652. Road-guides, 685. Soldiers 
in our civil war, 422. Straightaway ride, 
by W. M. Woodside, 499. Subscribers, 
72a. Touring report, 545. Wheeling static- 
tics of W. Bowles, 545. ' 

TllMldB, Index to, Ix. 

'* 1st " inferior to '* er " as a verbal ending, 
673-4. 669, 800. 

It^: Barthol's (H.) tour, 552. Bohon's 
(A. M.) tour, 549. Cycles at the Custom 
House, 600. Raihvad rates, 599. Sub- 
scribers, 792, 798. Tricycling in, Pennells' 
book of, 530, 687. Wheel literature, 700. 

Jafpan: Suvens's tour, 572. Subscriber, 

Jonnudism of the Wheel, 654-700. Alpha- 
betical index to all cycling and sporting 
papers quoted or referred to in this book, 
hadL Americanpressof '86, 661-72. Argu- 
ment for free advertisement of it, 653-4, 
and by it, 718-9. Ausvalian papers, 696, 
570. Belgian papers, 697. Bound volumes 
for libraries, 662-3 r 69 r . Circulation , State- 
ments and opinions about, 654, 656, 659, 
661, 665, 669-70, 691, 693-4, 697, 707. 
'* Consolidation,'' Fallacy concerning, 659, 
668, 6^. Dutch, 700. Editors, Sugges- 
tions to, 7 (9b English press, Sketch of the, 
688^5, 650, 547-9 ; French, 69S-9 ; German, 
697, 699; Hungarian, 697; Italian, 700; 
League policy unaffected by press clamor, 
6i8-2o, 630. List of 22 Am. and Eng. jour- 
nals, Aug. I, '86, 654. Norwegian, 700. 
OflSdal organs, 618-21, 650, 720. Personal 
abuse. Specimens of, 694-5. Postal regis- 
tration for second-class ratss, 619-20, 667. 
*' Reading-notices,*' Ineffectiveness of, 
708^, 718. Rivalry between "Coventry 
ring " and " Hlutlmg crew," 690, 694-5, 
547^ Spanish, 70a Sporting and out- 
ode papen support cyding, 67a, 695-6. 

Southern papers (U. S.), 670, 672. Supple- 
mentary details. May i, 1887, xciv. Swed- 
ish, 700, Touring reports less attractive 
than race reports, 716. Treatment of my 
subscription scheme, 704-9. Western papers 
(U. S.), 660.1, 669, 671-2. Writers, pub- 
lishers and printers, Index to, Ixxiii. 

Jounullsm in general : Index to all non- 
cycling periodicals quoted as referred to in 
this book, Ixxvii. Injury of printed gossip 
in "society papers," 281. Inventiveness 
of local editors on the Down-East border, 
263-4. Lies told " for revenue only " : 
against the nobility in England, — against 
the collegians in America, 396-7. Remark- 
able run by my while horse's ghost of '69, 
spurred by editorial scissors, from Maine 
to California, 397-8. Reminiscences of six 
years' Atlas-business, in holding up the 
}V0ridy 720-1. Suggestions to reviewers, 
viti. Tupperism and Greeleyism rebuked 
by Charles Astor Bristed, 727-8. 

Kentucky and its Mammoth Cavb, 
224-37, «ii. (index, 590). 

Khorassan and Koordistan, T. Stevens's ad- 
ventures in, 481, 4S3, 570. 

Lakh Gborgr and thr Hudson, 179-98, xi. 

Lakes and Ponds, Index to, Ix. 

Lakin cyclometer prize for 1885 mileage, 527-8. 

Lallement at Ansonia, 139-41, 394. 

Lanterns, 18, 516, 518. 

Larrigan manufactory, 265. 

Last Word, Thk, 800. 

Lawyers as wheelmen, 503, 511, 533. 

Lbacub op American Whbblmbn, xviiL, 
615-33 : Amaieitr Athlete as official organ, 
619, 667-8. "Amateur," Definition of, 624 ; 
racing men expelled by the, 629. Appoint- 
ment of officers, 622, 624. Bi. World as 
official organ, 618, 663, 665. Badge, 616, 
639. Bookmaster, 623, 627, 586. Bulletin^ 
Expenses and receipts of, 620, 661, Ixxxiv. 
California's certificate against League ho- 
tels, 609 ; road-book, 625. Chief Consuls, 
617, 622, 623. Committees, 622, 627. Con- 
suls, 624. "Creed" vs. C. T. C, 644. 
Defalcation of Secretary-Editor, Ixxxiv. 
Elections, 623, 626. English editors' at- 
tempt to discredit its "time," 547, 626. 
Executive Committee, 622-3, 627, Ixxxiv. 
Founded on my broken elbow, 34. Gov- 
emmental reform, Pres. Bates on, 626. 
Hand-books, 625, 677. Hostility to C. T. 


C eocroachments, 644. Hotels, Policy 
denounced, 6ot, 641. Hotels, Appoiutmeut 
of, by diiel consuls, 624, 609.' Incorpoia- • 
tion proposed, 626. Life memberships, 624. 
New York Division, Electiou law and sta- 
tistics of , 626. Marshals, 623,637. Meet- 
ings, 623. Membership, Committee on, 
622, 627 ; ^reographical statistics of , 617-18; 
Mode of applying for, 624 ; Two arguments 
for, 621. Officers, Duties of, 62 1-24 ; Elec- 
tioh of, 623, 626 ; Meetings of, 623 ; Names 
of, 626-28; Praise of, 618, 621. Offshoots: 
A. C. U. and C. W. A., 628, 633. " Organ- 
ship " iu '84, Bids of various papers for, 619. 
Parades, '80 to *86, 615-18, 21, 225, 371. 
Political power, Pres. Bates on, 62 \. Presi- 
dency, Argument against " rotating " the, 
617. President, 616, 622-3, 627. "Pro- 
fessional," Definition of, 624. Publication 
of road-books, 625. Quorum, 622. Races 
at N. Y. and Boston, 616. Racing Board, 
623, 627, 629-30, 633. Racing men expelled 
for "amateurism," 629. Railroads class- 
ing bicycles as baggage, 594. Representa- 
tives, 617, 622-3. Rights and Privileges, 
Committee on, 621-2, 627. Road-books of 
State Divisions, 625, 677, 581-2, 584. "Rota- 
tion," Protest against official, 618-21. Rules 
and Regulations, Committee on, 622, 627. 
Salary of Secretary-Editor, 622; of Sec- 
Treas. N. Y. Div., 626. State Divisions, 

622, 625-6 ; officers in service Oct. 30, '86, 
627-8. Steamship routes on free list, 593. 
Subscribers to this book. Names of officers 
who are, 765-89. Touring Board, 623, 627. 
Transportation Committee, Appointment 
of, 622 ; names of, 627 ; effective work for 
r. r. concessions, 591 ; neglect of the water 
routes, 593. Treasurer, 617-19, 622, 627. 
Unimportant allusions, 94, 113, 119, 128, 
154, 176-8, 199. a*4» 242. aSi, 371, 372, 488, 
493. 504, S08, 510, 516-19, 523-6, 530, 603-8, 
665, 667.8, 670, 675, 693, 704-5, 715, 717, 
720, 765-89, 800. Washington parade, 371. 
Wheel as official organ, 619, 667. Vice- 
President, 616, 622, 623, 627. Votes con- 
trolled by, 615, 6a I. Voting for officers of, 

623, 626, Isncxix. 

T.«pil-Tender dedsion, Rejrret for the, 464. 

LegiBlation against Cycling : Attempts in 
Ohio, 621 ; in New Jersey, 588, 735. Com- 
mon law a defense, 5S4, 615, 680. Test 
case at Central Park, 93-5, 585, xc 

Library of N. C. U. at London, 65a 

Liidifield as a typical village, 142. 

Loadstone Rock, Comparisons to, 354, 724. 

Log keeping by tourists. Books for, 676. 

London (*«* " England," " C T. C." and 
" N. C. U.") : Books and papers of cydiog, 
68 1-8. Characterization of by Co wper, 406 ; 
by Dr. Johnson, 426, 436. C. T. C. takes 
one-third its members from region of, 636. 
Dog show of 1872, 405. Halifax as a 
reminder of, 29a. Journals of cycling, 
688-95, 654t 547-9* Maps, 681-2. Queen's 
progress through the mob, 441- Seclusion 
in. My, 405-6, 427, 471. " Secretary-Editor 
of C. T. C." rebuked for forgery and vulgar 
abuse, by Mr. Justice Wills, xdi. So- 
ciety journalist sent to jail, by Lord Cole- 
ridge, 280. Subscribers to this book, 791. 
" Views " inferior to tbose of N. Y., 99, 
45* • 

Long - Distance Routes and Riobks, 
473-So»» «vi. 

Long Island and Statbn Island, 150-58, 
xi. ; Road book and maps, 584, 625. 

Loquot, The incomparable, 365. 

I^uggage-carriers, Lamson and Z. & S., 17, 
22, 45, 714. 

Luray Cavern, Praise of, 381-2. 

Macadam in the U. S., The first, 24a ; Primi- 
tive mode of' applying it on the Shen- 
andoah pike, 345. 

Macliines, Breakage and repairs of, 37-41, 4S7, 
492, 496, 498. Guides to, 550, 67s, 683-7. 

Maine (index, 573), Touring party in, 255-81. 

" Maker's Amftteun " : Expulsion of by 
L. A. W. and N. C. U., 629-30, 648MJ. 
Qassed as "promateurs" by A. C. U., 
632. Definition of, 632. 

Makes of bicydes and tricycles mentioned 
in this book. Indexes to, IxxviiL 

Malaria cured by bicyding, 295, 308. 

Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, 231-2, 387-2. 

Manhattan Island, Geography of, 64 ; En- 
trance to, 84. {Se« " New York City.") 

Maps: Adirondacks, 187, 211. Berkshn-e 
Co., Ms., 112. Boston, 113. Brooklyn, 
99,584. Buffalo, 58S. Canada, 331. Cat»- 
kills, 187. County, 99, 1x2, 177, 187, 6Sa. 
Connecticut, 99, 112, 113, 148, 177, 393. 
England, 6S1-7. France, 682. Ireland, 683. 
Kentucky, 590. Lake Geoi^, 99. Loo- 
don, 681-2. Long Island, 99, 154, 584, 625. 
Maine, 575. MassachuaettSp 122-13, >76. 



Ml Desert, aSi. New Brunswick, 331. 
New England, 1 13, 33 1. New Hampshire, 
577. New Jersey, 100, 159, 176-7, New 
York City, 100. Nova Scotia, 393. Ohio, 
615. Onurio, 331. Orange, 175, 584, 
5S8. Rhode Island, 581. Scotland, 681-3. 
Spn'nRfi^ld, 126, 254, State, 112. Staten 
I»!and, 99, 158, 625. Vermont, 578. Vir- 
ginia, 352. Westchester Co., 99, 100. 

If ftps Ful>liahed by Adams, 100, 1 13, 1491 
«77, 33»»35»-5- Barkraan, 584, 625. Beers, 
99, 126, 14^^, 174-5. 177. 187. 577- Bradley, 
254. Bromley, 176. Collins, 683. Collons, 
99. "3,«49. 158. »77. »S7, 293. 33'. 352, 
575, 577. 579. 58>, S90- Cupples, Up- 
ham & Co., 112-13. Gill, 683. Heald, 
154. Jarrold & Co., 6S3. Johnson, 352. 
Knight ft Leonard, 245. Letts, 681-2. 
Mason & Payne, 681-2. Merrill, 198. 
Paul ft Bro., 5SS. Philip ft Son, 682-3. 
Smith, 176. Steiger, 100. Stoddard, 187, 
211. Taintor, 19S. Walker ft Co., 113, 
126. Walling, 576. Watson, 154. 

Massachusetts (index, 579) : Road-reports, 
101-28. General Bartlett's message, as the 
representative soldier of, 386. Algernon 
Sidney's motto variously interpreted, 386, 
466. Myself as a native of, 367, 372, 722. 

May Fourth, 1887 (verses), xcvi. 

Medals for long-distance riding, 553, 559, 562. 

Medical men*s experience in wheeling, 510, 
523 ; testimony for, 62, 658. 

Memorial tributes to Gen. Bartlett and Maj. 
Wlnthrop, as typical Yankee heroes in the 
civil war, 386, 439. 

Mezieo : Cycles at the custom house, 600 ; 
sabscribers to this book, 790. 

Mileage statistics, Annual( American), 503-30 ; 
(Australasian), 562-9; (English), 531-5S. 

Misprint of price (#1.50 for $2), 732, 734, 799. 

Mistresses and wives, 442-4. 

Konntain PealEs and Banges, Index to, 

Mt Desert, Two days' wheeling on, 275-9. 
Mules' perversity, 9, 44, 199, 208, 379. 
Music and songs for wheelmen, 679, 686, 693. 
X7 Autobiography, Index to, Ixxix. 
My bull-dog's life and adventures, 407-25. 
My prize essay (which didn't take the prize), 

" Oh thb Whbbl," 1-14, 657-8, 702, iii. 
" My Second Ten Thousand," Proposals for, 

716-7, 211, 501, 573, 590. 
Mr 234 RiDSS 00 " No. 234," 4^3. x. 

Nadal's (E. S.) impresnons of social life in 

London and New York, 447*9. 
Names: Alphabetical lists of 1476 persons 
mentioned in the main text of this book, 
Ixv.-lxxi. ; of 3400 subscribers, 734-64, 794- 
6 ; of 3482 towns, Ixviii.-lxxviii. 
•* National Cyclists' Union" of Xngland 
(N. C. UOf 646-651 : "Amateurism," Defi- 
nit ion of, 638 ; financial dilemma produced 
by, 648 ; proposed abolition of, 649 ; vacil- 
lation in treatment of, 630, 649. " B.^.," 
as first named, 647. Championship meet- 
ings and gate-money, 649. Council of Dele- 
gates, 647. Danger-boards, 651. Exec- 
utive Committee in '86, 646 ; in '87, Ixxx. ; 
functions of, 648 ; logical criticisms of, by 
J. R. Hogg, 649; threatened libel-suits 
against, 630, 649. Financial gains in '85 
and losses in '86, 648. Libel suits, Danger 
of, 630, 649. Librarian's appeal for dona- 
tions, 650. Local Centers, officers of , in '84, 
646 ; finances of in *86, 648 ; functions of, 
648, 65 1. Medals for record-breaking, 65 1 . 
Membership, 647 ; Dissatisfactwn of, 649. 
Mismanagement of '86 races, 648. " Ob- 
jects" officially defined, 647. Officers, Elec- 
tion of, 647 ; Names of, 646, xciii. Publi- 
cations, 650. Quonim, 647-8. Races of 
*86 mismanaged, 648. Racing-register pro- 
posed, 649. Record-medals, 651. Refer- 
ence library, 650. Representation, Mode 
of, 647-8. Reserve-fund, 648-9. Review, 
The official quarterly, 650. Roads, Efforts 
for improved, 647, 650. •* T. A." and " T.' 
U. " absorbed, 647. Unimportant allusions, 
615, 686, 693, 695. Wheeli$tg^s criticisms, 
629-30, 648-51, xciii. 

National Pike, The Old, 24J-3. 

Natural Bridge and Luray Cavern, Sugges- 
tions for visitors to, 349-51, 382, 495. 

Negroes* amusement over bicycling, 272, 379 ; 
dread of the medicine-men, 431; neat ap- 
pearance at Bermuda, 364. 

New Bnmswlek: Larrigans at St. Ste- 
phen's, 265, 270. Our aftei^oon on Campo- 
bello, 270, 515. Tour to St. John, 274. 

New Hampshire (index, 575) : Tours among 
the White Mountains, 575-7. 

New Haven : Bone-shaker days of 1869 at, 
391-405. East-Rock Park (verses), 136. 
Lallement at, 139, 394. Plan of, 132. 
Roads around, 132-3, 138, 149. Velociped- 
ing at, 39«-405. {See " Yale College.") 



New Jeney (index, 58S): Road-reports, 
159-78. State Geological Survey and Offi- 
cial Atlas, 159, 176. 

New South Wales: Cyclists' Union, 652. 
Journalism, 564. Subscribers, 793. Tour- 
ing, 564-6. 

Newspaper lying, A celebrated case of, 395-8 ; 
A circumstantial case, 263-4. American and 
English ideals of compared, 396-7. 

Newspapers as factories for the making and 
l|>readiug of gossip by steam machinery, 281. 

Nbw York City : 64-100, x. ; 426-72, xv. 
(index, 5S2) : Appletons' Dictionary, 100. 
Artists' studios, 430. Battery, 98. Big 
Bridge, 86. Blackwell's Island, 69. Books 
and papers of cycling, 584, 654-5, 665^, 674, 
677. Brooklyn, 87-90, 97; Central Park, 
67, 93f 95. 585- Club-houses, 96-7, 586, 
772-4. Directories, 100. Elevated r. r., 
98, 584. Fees on horse cars and ferries, 
86, 96. Ferries, 8x, 85, 87, 88, 91, 168, 
583. Fifth Avenue, 65, 451-4, 583. Fort 
Lee ferry as entrance, 84. Geography, 
64-5. High Bridge, 70, 583. HoteU and 
restaurants, 611. Lightness of "social 
pressure," 427-8, 448-9. League parade 
and banquet, 617. Maps and guides, 99-100. 
Novelists' limitations, 448-9. Obelisk, Erec- 
tioiwof the, 465. Pavements, 66, 5S4. Police 
rules, 67, 452. Prince of Wales's visit, 
469-71. Public spirit, or " sense of local- 
ity," Lack of, 427, 436. Races of League 
in '81 a failure, 616. Restaurants, 611. 
Sidewalks, 67. Social life, Limitations of, 
448-52. Storage, of wheels, 86, 96. Street- 
system, 65, 451, 586, Subscribers to this 
book, 772-5. "Thirtieth Street," Con- 
trasted ideals of, 45»- Trade addresses, 
100. Views from Trinity spire, 99. Veloci- 
peding in '69, 403. WJuePs support of my 
canvass, 704-8. 

New York State (index, 582) : Road-re- 
ports, 150-8, 179-223, 246-8. 

New Zealand : " Cyclists' Alliance," 652. 
Journalism, 696. Population, railroads and 
telegraph, 570. Subscribers, 794. Touring 
and road-ridinjr, 567-70. 

Niagara and Some Lesser Waterfalls, 
209-223, xi., 202, 586. 

Nickel plate, Advantages of, 19-22. 

Night riding, 493» 498, 5»6, 533. 537. 539, 

Norway : Cycling paper, 700 ; touring, 549. 

Nova Scotia and the Islands Bbtond, 
282-94, xii. 

Obituary of Cola E. Stone, 323. 

" Object-lessons " in long-distance toon, 
301-3 ; in neat riding costume, 19^ 

OceanB and Sounds, Index to, IxL 

Ohio : Attempted legislation against cycling, 
621. Cycling monthly, 526, 660. League 
books aud maps, 625, 677. Mileage re- 
ports, 526. Railroads, 594. Touring re- 
ports, 245. 479. 488. 5o». 5»9- 

Omnibus roof-riding, 99, 406, 584. 

Ontario, A Fortnight in, 310-32, ziii. 
{Set " Canada.") 

Outside Dog in the Fight (verses), 412. 

Parades of League, 615-18; badly managed 
at Boston and Washington, 371; Cincin- 
nati velveteen at Chicago, 224. 

Paria : Autocracy of the concierge, 458-9. 
Cycling literature, 69S-9, 792. The invisi- 
ble countess, 280. Velocipeding in '68, 390^ 
403, 406. " Views " and " fickleness " con- 
trasted with New York's, 99, 586. 

Park Commissioners, Contests with N. Y., 
92-95, 585-6, xciii. 

Parks and Squares. Index to, Ixl 

Patch (Sam) at Genesee Falls, 215. 

Pathology : cramps, 59-60 ; fxces, 307, 536 ; 
fever, 552 ; saddle-soreness, 307, 537 ; thirst, 

63. 537- 

Pennsylvania (index, 589) : Scenic impres- 
sions of my autumn ride across, 302-3, 341-4. 
Senator Cameron as a phrase-maker, it. 
{JSte " Philadelphia.") 

" Personal " quality of the wheel, as regards 
its rider, 592. 

Personal statistics, Spedmens of, 473-572 • 
Request for, 717. 

Personifications: Bicycle, 246. Church, 
324, 447. Custom, 444, Death, 254, 259, 
732. Devil, 8, 482. Evil One, 401. Fame, 
465, 728. Fate, 45, 62, 92, 396, 731. For- 
tune, 380. Freedom, 472. Globe, 304. 
God, 481. Government, 447. Justice, 459. 
Life, 44, 472, 733. Memory, 136. Moon, 
444. Nature, 25, 54, 63, 303, 38a. Nep- 
tune, 364. New Year, 390, 399. North, 
386, 439. Old Year, 391, 590. Past, 309. 
Providence, 457. Safety, 505. Saw-horse, 
420. Scythe-Swinger, 725. Seventy, 44. 
South, 385, 386. Sun, 444. Time, 391, 
465. 47*. 656, 725. Truth, 63. Universe, 
304. Velocipede, 401-4.* West, 386. 



k nained in this book, Index to 1476 
(exduuve of the 3400 subscribers named 
OB pp. 734-99) J Ixv.-btxi. 
Philadelphia: "Association for Advance- 
ment of Cycling,'* 5S9. Books and papers 
of cycling, 654, 660, 674. Riding routes, 
"64, 377» 3^8-9. 495. 497. 499* S^a. 

Thiliwophical and Social (index, Ixxxi.). 

Photograptiing, Ainateur, 260, 369, 371, 546. 

Pictures and sketches, 379, 475, 493, 5341 SP* 
556, 656-60, 662, 665-75, 683-93- 

Poetry and Venos (mv *' Quotations ") : 
iCneas to Dido, 305. After Beer, 15. 
Apostrophe to the Wheel, 346. Birthday 
Fanta«e, A, 33. Boating at Bermuda, 
353-4. 367- Bull-Doggerel, 409, 411-13, 
430, 435. Carmen Bellicosum, 186. Carpe 
Diem, 473. Champion Bull-Dog, 409, 4 1 1. 
Cui Bono ? 309. Drink Hearty, 63. East 
Rock, 136. Gather the Roaes while ye 
May, 473. Greeting to my Co-partners, 
acrL Holyoke Valley, 136. In the 
Yacht Kulioda, 353-4, 367. Kaaterskill 
Falls, a 16. Last Word, The, 800. May 
Fourth, i8$7, xcvi. Outside Dog in the 
Fight. The, 413. Pinaforic Chant, 800. 
Qnashiboo, 444. Springt der Sam Patsch. 
3 16. Sursum Corda, 701. Touring Alone, 
J4. Triolet to "Two-Thirty-Four," 49. 
Triumph, 304. Velocipede, 401. Wheeling 
Lsuge, 309. Wheelocipcde, 39a 

Political allusions, 309, 370, 386, 4>i-a> 443 > 
450. 460. 464. 547. 585. 7a4» 726-7. 

" Politics " : as affected by wheelmen's votes, 
585, 615, 631 ; as contrasted to wheeling, 
309; as related to N. Y. parks, 93, 585. 

Pope Mfg. Co. : Advertising pamphlets and 
calendars, 678-Sa Bi. ^<7r/</ rupture, 664. 
Columbia bicycles and tricycles mentioned 
in this book (index, Ixxviii.), 34-63. Offices 
in four chief cities, 799. Portraits and 
biographies of its president, Col. A. A. 
Pope, 680; my estimate of his business- 
standing and sagacity, 712, vL Prizes for 
essays and pictures on wheeling, 657-8, 703. 
Support of my publication scheme, 703, 711- 
i3i 799* H^keglman, published by, 659-60. 

Ptrau Amgricanus (the Horse-driving Hog, 
who assumes the highways of this continent 
as his own private property), xo, 57, 596, 
615, 631 ; road law for, 584, 680, 684-5. 

PMraits, Lists of wheelmen's, 675, 680, 
68^6, 689, 69i> 693. 

Portraits, The exchanging of, tSo. 

Postage of C. T. C. GazttU, 641 ; qIL. A, 
W. BuUtiin^ 619-20. 

Potomac, Along thb, 338-45, xii. 

Prbfacb (5000 words) iii.-viii. 

Price misprinted (" $1.50 " for " $3 '*)» 73a, 
734, 799- 

Prince of Wales's visit to the room where 
this book was written, 469-7 r. 

Prize competitions. Literary, artistic, 657-8. 

"Professional," as defined by L. A. W., 
624, 633 ; A. C. U., 633 ; C. W. A., 635 ; 
N.C. U.,638. (^« "Amateurism.") 

" Promateur," A. C. U. definition of, 633. 

Proverbs : 604, 680, 703, 733, 737 ; (Latin) 63, 
280, 444, 4^9, 459. 680. 

Pseudonyms, Request for, 718. 

Publio Buildings, Index to, Ixii. 

Publishers' reciprocation and corrections 
asked for, 718-9. 

Qua&hiboo Bull (verses), 444< 

Queensland: Cycling, 653. Subscribers, 793. 

Quorum: L. A. W., 633; A. C. U., 631 ; 
C. T. C.,643; N, C. U., 647-8. 

Quotations: French vi., i, 34, 723, 737. 
German, 316. Greek, viii., 457, 718, 734. 
Italian, 640. Latin, iii., 62, 130, 280, 305, 
386, 439. 437, 444, 459. 466, 505, 680. 
Verses, vii., 34, 36, 136, 186-7, 216, 246, 266, 
304, 305, 309. 3*3. 353-4, 367, 39', 4oa, 406, 
409, 411. 41a, 420, 4*5, 430. 444. 447, 459, 
465-6, 47a, 505, 615, 70t, 727-31. 

Baces: Australia, 559-67 ; England, 532-58 ; 
for 100 miles, 513; not known in bone- 
shaker days, 399; on the road, 127, 320-3 ; 
participants' allusions to, 509, 516, 523, 529, 
537 ; straightaway courses in Canada and 
Shenandoah Valley, 397, 590. 

Bacing, Government of in America, 622, 
627-30. Australia, 652 ; Canada, 633-6 ; 
England, 629-30; France, 628, 651; Ger- 
many, 651 ; Ireland, 652 ; New Zealand, 
653. Social insignificance of, v. Speed 
more desirable than social subtleties, 629, 
630. Statistics, American books of, 675, 
680. Trade promotion of, v., 716. 

Railroads {set " Transportatiom Tax," 
591-600, X.; also index, Ixi.) : Cycling on 
the tracks of, 26, 73, 121, 128, 183, 190, 193, 
194, 197, 212, 237. Latest free list, xc 
Tasmania, 563. New Zealand, 57a 

Rain, Riding in the, 263, 534. 

Record-keeping, Bhnk books for, 676, xcv. 


BeoordB of Oontributon, 473-572 (indexes, 
xvi., xvii., Ixxi.); Suggestions for prepar- 
ing, 717. 

Restaurants in New York, 611. 

Revolutions of bi. wheels, Statistics of, 563. 

Bliode Island (index, 581). 

Rights and liabilities of wheelmen, Legal 
treatises on the (American), 584, 680 ; (En- 
glish), 684-5- 

Rinks for velocipeding in 1869, 393-4> 400-3- 

BlveTS and VaUeys, Index to, lix. 

Boad-books : "American Bicycler," The, 
the earliest, 674. Berkshire County, Ms., 
700. Boston, IT I, 655, 677. California, 
625. Canada, 330, 636, 677. Cape Ann, 
655. Connecticut, 58a, 677. Costs and 
conditions of making, 715. C. T. C, 642, 
687. England, 681-2. Essex County , Ms. , 
112,655, 677. Gloucester, Ms., 655. In- 
diana, 625. Kentucky, 590, 678, Long 
Island, 584, 625, 655, 678. Maryland, 589. 
Massachusetts, 581, 625, 677-8. Michigan, 
677. New Jersey, 177, 589. New York, 
Ixxxix., 584, 625, 678 (221). Ohio, 625, 677. 
Pennsylvania, 177, 589. Springfield (map), 
254. Vermont, 579. Western New York, 
22 T, 677. 

Road-records, Log-books for, 676-7. Sugges- 
tions for keeping, 717. 

Boadfl : Asia Minor, 481-2. Bermuda, 355-7. 
China, 572. England, 531-58,681-2. France, 
480,552,558. Germany, 480, 551-2. India, 
571-2. Japan, 572. Persia, 481-2, 570. 
Danger-boards on bad hills in England, 
643-4, 648, 651. Defense by me of Amer- 
can roads as suitable for touring, 11; of 
Canadian as superior to U. S., 297, 300, 
330 (opposing testimony, 320, 324). Im- 
provement and maintenance of, as shown in 
"Agricultural Reports of Massachusetts," 
680; " N. C. U." pamphlets, 647. Legal 
books as to wheelmen's rights on the, 584, 
647, 680, 684. Sign-boards less needed than 
road-books, 644. Superiority of asphalt, 
584, 5«8- 

" Rotation " in office. My protest against, 

BlUSia: Book of touring from, 687. Czar's 
absolutism. Allusions to the, 458, 724. T. 
Stevens's proposed route through, 570. 
Subscriber, 792, 799. 

Sardine industry in Maine, The, 270, 274. 

Scettic descriptions. Attempts at, 99, 104, 224, 

237, 268, 29a, 299, 301-5, 3*, 365, 380-3, 
418-34. ^ 

Scotland and the Scotch: Books of road« 
and tours, 684-6. C. T. C. Council, 645-6. 
H. Callan's touring report, 545. Journals, 
695, xciv. Maps, 68i-3. Road-races to 
John O'Groat's, 553-7. Subscribers, 792. 

Separate roadway, English estimates of mile- 
age on, 532-54 ; My own, 31. 

Servants as rulers of society, 445-50, 458-9, 

Shoes, Mileage statistics of, at, 7x9. 

Sidewalk riding, Rules about, in New Haven, 
395, 402 ; in N. Y., 67 ; in Prospect Park, 
92, 586-7. 

Small Boy's relation to cycling. The, 13, 48. 

Snow and ice cycling, 246-54, 404, 475-6, 
491-2, 507, 522. 527. 555. 559, 570. 

Social and Philosophical (index, Ixxxi.). 

" Society of Cyclists," Evolution of the, from 
the English " T. U.," 647. 

Solitude and independence, as described and 
illustrated by P. G. Hamerton, 467-9. 

Songs and music for cyclers, 655, 679, 686, 693. 

South, Political allusions to the, 386, 724. 

South Australia: Cyclists' Union, 652. Re- 
ports of tourists, 560-1. Subscribers, 793. 

Southern tjqse of countjrtowns, 303. 

Spain: A. M. Bolton's story of cycling in, 
549, 683. Vtlocipedo published at Madrid. 

Springpibld, The Environs of, 115-128, 
»•! 251-3, 579-80 : Bicycle Qub forms "A 
C. U." to provide ** amateurs " for its 
tournament, 63 1. Birthplace of myself and 
my ancestors, 722. " Coventry ring " jour- 
nals of England profess to doubt fast rac- 
ing " time," 547. Maps and guides, 126-7, 
254. Printing Company and its contract to 
manufacture this book, viit., 706, 710-11, 
799. Wheelmen's Gazette, 661-2, 706-7. 
"Wheelmen's Reference Book," 675, 710. 

Squares and Parks, Index to, Ixi. 

" Star " bicycle excels in coasting, 270, 274. 

Statks, Summary by, 573-90, xviii. Index 
and abbreviations of, Iviii. Representation 
of in League, 617, 6i8, 628. Residences 
of subscribers to this book, classified geo- 
graphically by, XX., 765-89 (705). 

Statistics from thb Veterans, 503-30, 
xvi. {See '* Historical Statistics.**) 

Steamships [see " Transportation Tax," 
591-600, X. ; also " Ferries "). 



Stereni'B (T.) T^rar rmmd the World : 

San Fkancnoo to Boston, 473-80; Lirer- 
pool to Teheran, 480-3 ; Persia, Afghan- 
irtM, India, Ouna and Japan, 570-a. 
Stockings, Miieago statiatica of, 31, 208, 739. 



Straightaway oouraes for long-distance rac- 
ing, Best American, 297, 590. 

Scxaightoway day's rides of 100 m. (Ameri- 
can), 113-14, «a«, w8, 138, 154. 3". 3M» 
319. 3*1-3, 378, 480, 493. 498, 5»S ; (Austra- 
lasian) SS9^; (English) 534, 53^ 547, 55 «. 

Straightaway rides of 3 and 4 days. Longest 
American, 498. 

Straightaway stays in saddle, 53, m, xs8, 
138, X48, 183,20a, 358, 3i3» 3191 343. 388, 
493, 499> 510. 5>4> S'6, 52a, 537, 530, 534, 
539. 540-1. 546, 559. 575- 

SuascaiBSRs, Thk Thrbb Thovsahd, 
734^, xix. ; Allusions to, vi., vii., 64, 353» 
473, 484, 558, 569. 573. 701-ao, 732. Geo- 
graphical directory of, 765-94, (705). Sui>- 
plementary list of latest soo, with " trade 
directory,*' 794-9* 

"Swells" not patrons of cycling, 695. 

Bwttoerhind ; Custom House rules, 599. 
Cycling Union, 650. C. T. C. Division, 
637. Englishmen's tour, 532, 542. Sub- 
scriber, 79^' 

Tables of mileage, 509, 535. 54o, 54*. 544. 

TMmmnla: Cydists' Union, 652. Excur- 
sionists' r. r. guide, 563. Road-racing and 
touring, 563-4. Subscribers, 794. 

Taylor's (G. J.) patent crank lever, S2a 

Thames and its tributaries, The, 129, 68t. 

Thousand Islands to Natural Bridgb, 
333-52, »ii. 

Tires, Excellent service of, 37-38, 47, 531, 538. 
, Tool carrying, 18, 22. 

Toronto, Impressions of. 318. 

Touring parties' reports, 183, 187, 192, 197, 
198, 315, 316, 318, 344. a45. »57-79, 3M-»5f 
Sao-s, 348, 377. 5«>f 5<». 5«*. S4a, 560, 580. 

Tcmriiii^ Boutet: Adiroodacks, 311, 587. 
Australia, 564-6. Baltimore, 377, 589. 
Berkshire Hills, The, 131, i4a-3. M7-8. 
s«y4» ao8, 5*». 7«>- Boston to Ports- 
mouth, loi^a; to Providence, 107; to 
Spriogield, 103, no, 117, isS, 181, 308. 
Buffalo, s33- CaliComia, 475-61 489-94- 

Catskills, 187-9, 4^, 49S. Conn. Riaer, 
117.20, 179-84, 57»-«o- BnglMd, 5t»4i. 
553.8. Europe, 480, $*»» 545# 55i-3i 55»' 
Hodson River, 71-2, 75-42, 146-8, x69«72, 
'87-98, 510, 582.3, 586-7. IreUnd, 546. 
Kennebec Valley, 573-4. Lake-shore, 170, 
ao3-6, 30 r, 310. Long Island, 84, 86-93, 
150.4. Louisville, 333-7. Mohawk Valley, 
«97, «99-ao2, 208. Mt. Desert, 275.9, 574- 
Newport, 108. New York to Boston, 73, 
103, no, 117, 123, 138, 13 1-9, 149, «79^«. 
346-54, 580.2 ; to Philadelphia, 83, 84, 158, 
167, 173, 389.90, 588-9. New Zealand, 567-9. 
Ontario (oondciised from guide), 315-6, 
331-3. Orange and Newark triangle, 159-63, 
583. 5^- Outline tours, ii-ia, 396-301. 
Philadelphia, 388-90. Providence to Wor- 
cester, 109. St. Lawrence River, 335-30, 
500, 575- St. I^uis to Boston, 487-8, 535. 
St. Louis to Staunton, 485-6. San Fran- 
cisco to Boston, 475-80. Scotland, 553-7. 
Seashore, 90, 108, 133, 138-9, 150-8, 374, 
383. Shenandoah Valley, 304, 396, 344-51, 
382-4,388, 494, 590. Springfield, n5-i28, 
579-80. Staten Island, 156-8. Toronto to 
Kingston, 295-8,301,306, 318-25. Wash^ 
ington, 376. Western New York (con- 
densed from guide), 331-3, 587. White 
Mtns., 575-7. Yosemite Valley, 49r-3. 
TOQiiatfl : Books of reports by, 489, 549, 
673, 683-7, 696. Clothes and equipments 
for, i6-33. Duty of demanding that wheels 
be classed as baggage by all s. s. agents, 
59 r. Freedom of choice as to scene of 
tour, where no extra-baggage tax is levied, 
593. Hotels, Special attentions and privi- 
leges needed at, 602-4, 614. Reports 
wanted from, 717. Toilet articles needed, 
17. Wishes disregarded by perfunctory ad- 
vocates of " League hotel policy." 601. 
Tours from '79 to '82, Oudine of my personal, 

rr-i2, 26-33. 
Towns named in this book, Alphabetical list 

of 3482, with 8418 references, xxxv.-lvii. 
Towns supplying 3300 subscribers to this 
book, Geographical list of 887, 765-94; 
index to, xx. 
Tow-path touring, 9, 44, 173, 180, 189, r9o, 
»93. i99-ao2, 207-8, 212, 239-42,244-5, 304-5. 
340, 34a-3. 378, 384. 479, 488. 
Trade Directory : Alphabetical list of 122 
subscribers at whose offices this book may 
be consulted, 796^7. Geographical list of 


nme, 79S-9. Significant omissions of the 
indifferent, 709. 

Ttade in Cyelet : Agent's guide for the, 679, 
685. Benefit received from circulation of 
WheelmoH, 659. Indifference to my book, 
712. Statistics of 1877, 656. 

Training, Books on, 674-5, 684-6. 

Transportation Tax, Thb, 591-600, x.; 
fees on N. Y. ferries and horse-cars, 86, 
96; touring, as I. Latest r.r. 'son free list, 
xd. Storage charge for wheels at English 
railway stations, 598 ; in N. Y., 86. 

TrioycleSy Index to makes of, Ixxix. 

"Tricycle Union" and "Tricycle Associa- 
tion," History of the defunct English, 647. 

TrieyoUng: Books on, 684-7; Ladies' les- 
sons at Orange, 588. Long rides, 509. 
Mileage, 509, 511, 517, 523* 5* 5-^. 53©- 
Radng, 523. Tours in Australia, 562-6; 
England, 534, 543, S54f France, 558, 600; 
Italy, 509, 600, 6S7. 

Triumph, defined by " H. H." (verses), 304. 

Uniform, Two essentials of a dub-, 19 ; Price 
of C. W. A., 635 ; Profits of C. T. C, 541 ; 
Wanamaker's L. A. W., xc 

Unions (Cyding) in Europe and Australia, 

United Statei, Abbreviations of the, with 
index of chief references, Iviii. Geo- 
graphical roll of the, from Maine to Cali- 
fornia, with alphabetical list of residences 
of subscribers to this book, 734, 765-89. 

Univbrsity Building, Thb, 426-73, xv.: 
Architecture described by several observers, 
428-34, 439. Business management, 457, 
461. Collegians' conduct, 428, 459, 466. 
Danger of fire, 460. Defects as a lod^ng- 
houae, 456. Eminent residents, 431, 434, 
464-5, 470- H istorical statistics, 433-5, 43 7-8. 
Janitor, 43S, 443, 4S^-8o. 461-2. Lack of 
eamaraderut 463. Pictures, 430, 434. 
Prince of Wales's visit in i860, 469-72. 
Sedttsion of tenants, 438-9, 454-6, 463-4* 
Servants, 456-8. Women residents and 
visitors, 44 ■-4* 

Valleys and Biven, Index to, Ibc. 

Vandalism and vanity in Mammoth Cave, 381. 

Velodpeding in 1869, 390-406. 

Velveteen, Excelleocet of , 19, ai. 

Vbtbrans, Statistics prom thb, so^V^f 

Victoria: Cydisu' Union, 652. Journals, 
695-6, 558. Road races, 559^. Subscrib- 
ers, 558, 706, 793-4. Touring, 560.3, 56s. 

Virginia (index, 590), University, 350, 435. 

Waahington City (index, 590. Ivi). 

Washington Square (index, Ixi.): as it 
appeared in 1835, i860 and 1878, 432-3 ; as 
a camp in the desert, 455* as scene of 
elbow-breaking, 24 ; as the real center of 
the world, 64-65 ; my proposed battle-field 
for the beer, 16; its Philadelphian name- 
sake, 494i 497. 

Waterfalls, Index to, Ixi. 

Weather, Pointera as to, 209, 221, 356, a97- 
300 ; Summary of weather changes in my 
1400 m. ride, 297-300. 

Whitb Flannsl and NiCKSL Platk, 
16-22, ix. 

Wind as a factor in riding, 253, 363, 390, 
a97-9i Sn, 3*6, 556, 570. 

Winter Whbbling, 246-54, 491, xii. 

Winthrop (Maj. T.) as a typical hero of the 
dvil war. Tribute to, 439. 

Women {se€ special index, Ixxxiii.). 

Xenophon's fame as a standard, viii. 

Yacht Kulinda, In the (verMs), 353-4, 367. 

Yachting in the Paleocrystic Sea (verses), 23. 

Yachtings by wheelmen, 504, 532. 

Tale College : Advent of the bone-shaker 
in 1869, 391-5. Bicyde races, 660. Boat- 
race management at New London, 131. 
Books about, 133, 405, 466, 711, 722. Build- 
ings in 1830, 434-S* Class biographies, 732. 
Class of 1837, 464. Directory of New 
York Graduates, 464. President Dwight 
on the Connecticut Valley roads in 1803, 
127. (^duates alluded to, 25, X13, 140, 
304, 4*4, 439. 447, 464. 494, 657, 727, 72*, 
732. Graduates as tenants of the Univer- 
sity Building, 465-6. Harvard's rivalry, 25, 
256. Libraries on sub.-list, 770. Veloci- 
peding in 18 19 and 1869, 39S-402. Utopian 
ideal, 465. 

Yankee, Types of the, 36, 386, 439, 722. 

Zmertych's (I.) tour, London to Pesth, 551. 

Comparing the 675,000 words in this book with the 220,000 in my " Four Yeara at Yale " 
(728 pp., $2.50), I see that the price, at same rate, would be $7- So; while, at rates of T. Stevens's 
book (547 PP- of 230,000 words, $4), or " Gen. Grant's Memoirs" (1232 pp. of 300,500 words, 
$7), the price would be $11.75, or $15. The pages of any single chapter will be mailed for as c. 



In die folloinng list of towns named in thU book, those which the " U. S. Official Postal 
Guide " designates as money-order offices are put in full-faced type ; and the star (*) marks such 
as are ooanty-seats. Towns outside the United States hare their countries given in italics. 
A nnmeral higher than 764, shows that one or more subscribers to the book are catalogued on the 
ipedficd page ; and the numbers 609, 610 refer alwajrs to the names of subscribing hotels. 

Abbotsboro, P»., 388. Abbottstown, Pa., 
S86. Aberdeen, Md., 497. Aberdeen, 5^0/., 
555.599. 645. 79a- Abington, Eng., 536. 
Abington, Md., 497. Ahinj^xi, Ms., 766. 
Academy, Pa., 609, 778. Adanu, Ms., 193, 
700. Adams Center, N. Y., 344-s. Ad- 
amstown, Pa., 387. Addison, N. Y., 2t8. 
•Adel, la., 787. Adelaide, Ont., 332. Ad- 
elaide, 5". Aus., 560-5. Adelong Crossing, 
N. S. W., 565. •Adrian, Mich., 785. Ad- 
rianoide, TVtr., .482. Agawam, Ms., laa, 
128, 146, 179, 180-1, 251, 580. Agra, Ind.y 
S72. Ailsa Craig, Ont.^ 332. Airolo, //., 
552. •AlEron* O., 501, 595, 609, 784. Ak- 
ron, Pa., 387. Alabama, N. Y., 222; Al- 
amoochy. N. J., 163. •Albany, N. Y., 11, 
»9.3t, 5«. 75i 7«. 8s, 154, 187, 190-2, 197-8, 
209, Ml, 378. 47«t 479. 487-8, 501. 507. 523f 
583-4, 593-4, 597, 604, 656, 770. •Albla, la., 
501,787- *AlMon.IlI.,485. •Albion, Ind., 
785^ •Albion, N. Y., 217, 222, 488. Al- 
bttry, ^. S. W.^ 564-5. Alconbury, Eng.^ 
540-1, 553. Alden, N. Y., 208, 215, 222. AI- 
denville. Pa., 339. Aldie, Va., 348. Alexan- 
der, N.Y., 222. Alexandria, Ky., 590. •Al- 
enodriikVa.. 373, 376, 465- Alexandria 
Bay, N. Y., 333-4. Alfred, Oni., 328. Ali- 
abad, Per.^ 571. Allahabad, ImL^ 572. Al- 
legany, N. Y., 223. Alleglieny City, Pa., 
778. Allendale, N. J., 169. Allenford, d7»/., 
316. Allentown, N. Y., 220. •Allentown, 
Pa.. 339, 387, 778. Alliance, O., 594- Al- 
liiton, Oni., 316. Allowaystown, N. J., 521. 
Alhton, Ms., 766. Almond, N. Y., 217, 
218, 223. Alpine, N. J., 8f, 586. Alten- 
bmg, Awt.f 481. Altnamain, Eng.^ 536. 
Alt Getting, G^r., 481. Alton, 111., 501, 594. 
Akon Bay, N. H., 577. Altoona, la., 479. 
Altoona, Pa., 496, 530, 609, 778. Alvarado, 
CaL, 493. Alvinston, Oni.y 332. Amenia, 
N.Y., 143, T46-7, 188. Ameslniry, Ms., los, 
766. Amherst, Ms., 113, 114, 120, 142, 186, 
5»3. S79» 7661 Amherst, N. S., 289, 790. 
Amtty, Or., 788. AmityviUe (L. I.), N. Y., 
'S<M, ^4' Araosville, Pa., 379. Am« 
D, J/ai., 545. Amsterdam, N. Y., 

197, 200, ao8, 216. Ampthill, Etfg.f 553. 
Ancaster, Off/., 314. Ancona, //.,552. An- 
dover, Ms., 112, 208, 223, 579, 766. 'An- 
geUca, N. Y., 217. Angola, N. Y., 479. 
Angora, 7Vr., 481-2, 792. Anita Springs, 
Ky., 236. Annapolis, M S., 282, 284-5, 609, 
790. 'Ann Arbor, Mich., 501, 595, 609, 
628, 785. Annisquam, Ms., 512. Ann- 
▼llle. Pa., 343. Ansonla, Ct, 139, 140, 142, 
769. Antietam, Md., 352, 384. Antigonish, 
A^. S., 289, 790. Antwerp, A/., 532, 545, 
599. Antwerp, N. Y., 334. Apalachin, 
N. Y., 218. Appleton City, Mo., 787. 
•Appomattox, Va., 346. Ararat, K«ir/., 560- 
2,566,696. Arcadia, Mo., 528. Areola, N. 
J., 165-6, 169. Ardroore, Pa., 389, 609, 778. 
Argyle, A'. S., 293. •Argyle, N. Y., 193. 
Arkona, Oni., 332. Arkport, N. Y., 222. 
Arkwright, Oni., 316. Arlington, Minn., 

787. Arlon, Bfl.f 545. Armada, Mich., 
785. Amheim, Be/., 545. Amprior,0»/., 327. 
Arran, Oftt., 315. Arthur, C?«/., 316. Arva, 
Oni., 312. •Asheville, N. C, 500. Ash- 
ford, Eng.f 790. Ashford, N. Y., 75, 79, 80. 
Ashland, Ky., 590, 783. Ashland, Ms., 
III. Ashland, N. H., 577. •Ashland, O., 
784. Ashland, Pa., 778. Ashland, Va., 
351. Ashmore, 111., 489, 786. Ashtabula, 
O., 12, 28, 31, 50, 205, 479, 487, 488, 594. 
Ashton, R. I., 109. Ashton, Md., 373, 376, 
497. Ashton-under-'Tyne, Eng.^ 645. Ash- 
uelot, N. H., 579. Ashville, N. Y., 587. 
Asterabad, Rtu., 571. Astoria (L. I.), N. 
Y., 28, 32, 97, 98. 153, 584. •Astoria, Or., 

788. •Atchison, Kan., 594. Athol, Ms., 
488. 579. Athole, Sc^., 556. Athens, 
N. Y., 770. Atberton, Oni., 33a. Atkin- 
son, 111., 479* ^Atlanta, Ga., 352, 594, 597. 
Attica, N. Y., 216, 222. •Aubnm. Cal., 
476. •Auburn, Ind., 785. •Auburn N.Y., 
301, 308, 212, 770. Auckland, A^. Z., 566, 
567, 568, 794. Augsburg, Ger., 481. Au- 
gusta, Ky., 590, 609, 783. •Augusta, Me., 
573, 574, 597, 609, 765. Auma, Grr., 552. 
•Austin, Tex., 783. Aurora, III., 609, 786. 
Aurora, N. Y., 215. Aurora, Otd., 316. 


Auiabls Chum, N. Y., sii. Auxy-Ie- 

ClMteau, Fr.^ $58. Avcnal, VicL, 565. 
Avendalo, Vkt.t 565. Avon, Ct., 145. 
Avon, N. Y., 323. Avondale, N. J., 166, 
167, 169, 5S3. Avondale, O., 784. Avon 
Sprinss, N. Y., 30, 213, 218. Ayer Junction, 
Ms., 128. Aylmcr, <?»/., 315, 3x9, 3271 33»» 
J33, 634. Ayr, Oni.^ 317. Ayr, Scot., 686. 

Babylon (L. I.), N. Y., 150, 152^ Bad- 
deck, N. S., 289. Baden, Ont., 316-7. Bad 
Unda, Wyo. , 477. Bainbridge, N. Y., 49S. 
Baku, /?«*., 571. Balcony Falls, Va., 347, 
35a Baldock, En^. , 540. Baldwin, 111. , 528. 
Baldwin, N. Y., 1S6. Bale, SwiiM,, 599. 
Ballarat, yict. , 559, 560-2, 793. Ballardsville, 
Ky.,236. •Ballston.N.Y., 197,208. Bal- 
timore, Md., 29, 31, 238, 241-4, 349, 373, 
376-7,390* 4^7* 486-7, 497* 5»3» S^h 575, S^S, 
589, 593-4, 609, 62 7-8, 643, 652, 78j. Bangor, 
^V»64S- •Baagor, Me., 278-9, 397, 515, 
saj. 574, 593* 661, 765. BarboursTille, W. 
Va., 35X. *Bard8town, Ky., 229, 230, 234, 
>37. 5*7. 609, 783. Bar Harbor, Me., 274, 
278, 279, 5x5, 574. Barkhamsted, Ct., 144. 
Bar-le-Duc, Fr., 48a Barnesville, Pa., 245. 
Bamet, ^v-t 539, 54©, 54*. Barr, Col., 501. 
Bam, Vl, 578, 766. Barrie, Oni., 316. 
Barrington, //. S. , 288. Banyfield, Ont. , 335. 
BarrjrtowQ, N. Y., 510. Bartlett, N.. H., 
S76-7. Bartleyville, N. J., 164. Barton, N. 
Y., 319. Bartow, N. Y., 31. Bartville, 111., 
479. Basle, J'fVA^z., 532, 545, 552. Batainitx, 
Sltnf., 4S1. *Batayia, N. Y., 308, 3x5, 217, 
333, 487, 501, 770. Bath, £fi^., 4, 532, 538, 
544* 55'* 554, 567, ^45* 79o- •Bath, Me. , 577. 
Bath, N. H., 578. Bath, Omt., 325. Battle 
Greek, Mich., 785. Battle Mountain, 
Nev., 476. •Bay City, Mich., 785. Bay- 
6eld, Om/., 313, 3»4, 332- Bayonne, N. J,, 
158. BayRidge(L. I.),N. Y.,90,583. Bay 
Shore (L. 1.), N. Y. , xsa. Bay Side (L. I .), 
N. Y., 150. Bealton, ^ii/.,333. Beamsville, 
0/a., 3x5. Beard, Ky., 236. Bear Wallow, 
Ky., 330. Beaver Falla, Pa., 5x4-5, 778. 
Beaufort, Vicf-t 560. Beaumont, Oni., 330. 
Becdes, Stif', S39> Beckct, Ms., X3x, X93. 
Bedford, Eng-., 532, 540, 541, 557,645. Bed- 
ford, M S., 287. •Bedford. Pa., 496, 530, 
609, 778. Bedfordshire, Ef$g^., 533. Bedford 
Springs, Pa., 344, 496. Beech Cliff, Pa., 
778. Beeston, Enjg^., 790. Beeston Castle, 
Sffg"', 536. Bel Bazaar, Twr., 483. *Bel 
Air, Md., 344i 373, 377- Bela Palanka, Tur., 

481. Belehertown, Ma., r 13, 144,579^ Bel- 
last,/»nf., 499,645. •BeUart,Me.,574,765. 
Belfast, N. Y., 3x7, 323. Belfort, Fr,, 599. 
Belgrade, S^rv., 481. Belgrave, Om/., 33a. 
Belhaven, Ont., 316. Bellefontaioe, Mo., 
535. •Belief ontaine, O., 501. BelleviUe, 
N. J., 84, 166. Belleville, Onf., 297, 3x7, 319, 
320, 321, 322, 324, 3«5, 3*7, 33«, 635, 789. 
BeUevne, O. , 479- Bellows Falla, Vt. , 1 1, 
29, 31, 1x8, 1 19, x8i, 183, X84, 578, 766. Bell- 
port (L. I.), N. Y., 150, 153. Bell's Comers, 
Ofit.t 337. BellvUle, O., 784. Belmont, 
Cal., 493. Belmont, Me., 574. •Belmont, 
N.Y.,323. Belmont, Pa., 339, 389. Beloit. 
Wis., 787. Belone, Kan., 485. •Belvidera. 
111., 786. Bemis Heights, N. Y., x86, 190U 
Benalla, Fie/., 565. Benares, /adl, 57a. 
Benkleman, Neb., 501. Bennettsville, Ind., 
235. •Bennington, Vt., x86, 191, 193, 594, 
627,766. Bcowawe, Nev., 477. Berea,0., 
784. Bergen, Den., 599. Bexgea, N. Y., 
215, 223. Bergen Point, N. J., 84,156, 158. 
x6S, 169, 583. Beigerae, />., 558. •Berke- 
ley Springs, W. Va., 496^ Berkhamsted, 
Eh£^. , 473 , 4S0. Berkshire, Ms. , 193. Berlin, 
Ct., 128, 136, X37, X38, 149, 19X, 581. Berlin, 
Ger.fAt^f 55*, 646, 651, 697, 793. Berlin, 
OiU., 316, 317. Bemardston, Ms., ji, 38, 
I X9, 182, 576 (723). Berne, Svfdte. , 545. Bem- 
ville, Ind., 485- •BerryvlUe, Va., 344, 383, 
384, 497, 78a. Berthier, Ofti., 330. Berwick, 
A^. S., 285, 393. Berwlok, Pa., 497, 778. 
Berwyn, Pa., 389. Besan^n, Fr., 545. 
Bethany. Ct., 583. Bethel, Me., 576-7. 
Bethel, Vt., 578. Bethlehem, N. H., 577. 
Bethlehem, Pa., 387, 389, 778. Bethune- 
ville, N. v., 211. Beverly, Ms., 655,677, 
766. Beverly, N. J., 173, 533, 776. Bic, 
Qtte., 32<), 330. Biddef(nrd, Me., 575, 637. 
Biggleswade, £m£:, 540-1, 557-8, 645. Billa. 
bong, M S, «^., 564.5. Billerica, Ms., 113. 
Bing ha m , Me., 573-4. •Bingham ton, N. 
Y., 2x, 38, 31, 306, 3x8, 3x9, 30a, 308, 
337, 338, 340, 501, 637, 770. Birchton, Om., 
327. Bird-in-Hand, Pa., 378. Birdshaw, 
Pa., 484. Birjand, Per., 571. •Blrmijigi. 
ham, Ala. , 783. Birmingham, Ct. , 139, 140, 
143, 769. Birmingham, SHjr-t 480, 533. 539, 
546, 554, 643, 645, 646, 647, 6S4, 688, 695, 790. 
Birr, OfU., 3x3. Bishop's Gate, On/., 333. 
Bishop Stortford, En€., 541. Bitter Creek, 
Wyo., 477. Blackheath, Emgr., 686. Black 
River, N. Y., 594. Black Rock, N. Y., 5a, 



ao). Btedemlmrs* ^<^> M4> 37^ Blair 
Atbolc, Sc^.^ 536. BUintown, N. J., 163, 
J07. Blainvilto, Pa.» 496^ Blikdey, P^., 
34>- Blandiordi Ms., xai, m8. Bbinsluird, 
<M., 33a. Blaubeaten, {J^r., 481. Bkwen- 
bai:g, N, J., i7«, 377. I Mo om flrtd, Ky., 
237. Bloondlcdd, N. J., 3S, s^* 'S^* i59i 
161,776. Blooaiiiigdale,N. J.,170. *Blooill- 
blgton,ni.,50t,5a9,595'6,786. BlOMtmrg, 
At, 778. Blae Boancts, tPji^., 328. Blue 
Canyon, Cal., 476. Blue Lick Spring, Ky., 
233. Bhw Stores, N. Y., 19a, 196. Ely the, 
Old., 111. Boardville, N. J., 170. Bodmin, 
^•g', 536. BogaloDg, AT. S. fy., 561. 
•BoiM City, Id., 609, 788. Bokhaia, Xm., 
570L Bolac, Kirf., 561. Bold Bridge, ^Tiy., 
557. Bologna, //., 553. Bolton, N. Y., 186. 
Bonar, Em^r-, 536. Bonn, {^r., 697. Book- 
ham, /^. S. U^.y 565. Boonsbofo, Md., 244, 
349. Boonton, N. J., 84. *Bo<mvU]e, 
Mo., 787. BoonTille, N. Y., aoi. Bor- 
^lenx, />., 552, 599, 699. Bordentown, N. 
J., 323, 52a, 609, 776. Bordentown, S.Ams.^ 
S6i. BoRM^^h Bridge, Eng., 554. Borriao- 
Icigh, Jrt., 546. Boacawen, N. H., 577. 
Boston, Ind., 485. *Boitott, Ma., 2,4, », 
ai»«5-9» 3«, 33f 36, 48, S«. 5«» 85, 94, 101- 
17, 126.8, 133, 138, 151, x8i-3, 204> ao8. 249, 
2S8«o, 276, 279, 282, 288-9, 292-3, 320-2, 324, 
35^ 366-7, 370-2, 376, 378, 384, 386, 388, 437f 
43», 446, 468-71, 473-5» 479-80, 48s, 487-9, 49*1 
499. 500, 503-5, 507-8, 5"-«4, 5«6.i8, 522-6, 
5$a. 57», 573-4, 577, S79*>, S**, 584, 5«7, 
598-4, 597, 600, 602, 607, 609, 615-17, 6«5-7, 
63», 643-4, 646, 653, 655-8, 662, 664, 668, 
673H. 676-7, 680, 687, 703, 705, 707-8, 711, 712, 
713, 766. Boston, Oni., 33a. Boaton Cor- 
nets, N. Y., 188. Bound Brook, N. J., 167, 
>7*, 377, 776. Bowmanaville, O1U., 319, 
325. BowmanaviUe, N. Y., 217. Bowna, 
N. S. fV., 565. Bowning, AT. S. W., 566. 
BoQcherville, Ofit., 328. Boulogne, France, 
599. •Boseaum, Mon., 788. BnuseTllIe, 
in., 786. Braddoek, Pa., 485. Bradford, 
^V-, 5»7. 545. 644-5, 79«>- Bnktford, Vt., 
STSw Brady Island, Neb., 478. Brampton, 
(hi., 319. Branchville, Ct, 138. Branch- 
rille, N. J., 164, 510. Bnmdon, Vt., 579. 
Branfbfd, Ct., jo, 132-3, 149, 511, 769. Brant- 
fflfd,0»t/., 314, 317, 33«, 33»,634. Bnttto- 
horo, Vt-, It, 29, SS. 5«» "9, «8a. «9i. 579, 
«Q9, 766. •Bnsil, Ind., 486. Bread Loaf 
(Ian), Vt., 578. Bremen, Ger., 592. Brent- 

wood, Qd., soa Bresha, OmL, 316, 317. 
Brewerton, N.Y., 335. Brewster, N. Y., 188. 
Brick Church, Md., 373. Bxlek Chtliell, N. 
J., 776. Bridestow, ^M^., 536. Bridgehamp- 
ton <L. I.), N. Y., 155. Bridgeworth, Bftg., 
536, 554. •Bildgeport, Ct., 30, 51, 133-4, 
138, 158, 237, 448, 249. 485, 491, 500, 769- 
Bridgeton, Me., 574, 577- Bridgetown, N. 
S., 284-5. Bridgewater, Eng^., 536, 555-6. 
Bridgewater, Ms., 767. Bridport, Eh£., 

646. Brighton, Em£., 480, 533, 547, 598, 646, 

647, 682. Brighton, Ms., 29, 31, 107, 109, 
III, 113, 114. Brighton, N. Y., 770. Bright- 
on, Oni., 319, 320, 321, 325, 789. Bright- 
wood, D. C, 349. 376, 497. Brightwood, 
Ms., 767. Brimlield, Ms., 129. Brisbane, 
Qutend., 652, 793. Brtitol, Ct., 589, 769. 
Bristol, Eng., 536, 545, 550-1, 556, 642. 646, 
647, 790W Bristol, Pa., 164, 173, 778. •Bris- 
tol, R. I., K>7, 108, MS, 581. Bristol Arms, 
Oni., 319U Bnokporl, N. Y., 217, 222. 
Broekton, Ms., 106, 109, ita, 516, 767. 
Brooton, N. Y. , 587. Brockville, Oni, , 326-7, 
333. Brodheadsville, Pa., 341. Bromley, 
Eng., 790. Bronico, //., 552. BrookHeUL, 
Ms., 104, 114- Brook Haven (L. I.), N. Y., 
150,153. Brookllno, M8.,6o9. Brookljni, 
la., 479. •Brookljm, N. Y., 27, 3a, S3. 57, 
85-9*, 97, 99, ««>, "«, «48, 153, «5S, «46, 
252, 524, 583-6, 625, 638, 655, 678, 770W 
BrookvUle, Md., 376. BrookvUle, Pa.,' 
778. Brown's Gap, Va., 348. Brownsboro, 
Ind., 236. Brownsboro, Tex., 783. Browna- 
ville, Md. , 245. Brownvrillo, Pa., 496, 609, 
778. Brucefiekl, OtU., 313. Brush, Col., 
501. Brushville, N. Y., 214. Brumfield, 
Ky., 228, 234. Bnmswiek, Me., 765. 
Brunswidc, Ger., 687. Brussels, Bel., 645, 
651, 699. Bryn Mawr, Pa., 389-90, 495- 
Buangor, Vict.., 560. Buckden, Eng., 541. 
Bockhom, OnL, 33a. Buckingham, Eng., 
539. BucUand, Va.,37S' Biloksport,Me., 
378, 574. Bucksville, Pa., 497. ^Bnoynit, 
O., 488, 784. Budapest, Hmtg,, 481, 55«, 
792. BueMlle, N. Y., 3361 Buffalo, Ky., 
230. «BllffftlO, N. Y.. 9, 12, 28, 50, 52, 178, 
198, 203-6, ao8, a 1 4-17, s»*3, 3i5> 3^7, 3»>, 
321, 475, 479-80, 487-8, 50«. 594, 573, 587- 
8, 594, 609, 617, 6ao, 627, 771. Buffalo 
Gap, Va., 486. BuH Run, Va., 375. Bunder 
Gut, ^«tt.,57t. Bungay, £'m^., 539. Bunin- 
yong, Vkt., 559, 03- Bunker Hill, Ms., 
386. Banker HUl, Va., 348, 388. Bureau, 


III., 489. Burford, Oni.^ 317. Bani;o7De, 
Omt., 315-16. Burke, N. Y., 771. *Blirlillg- 
ton, la. , 485-6, 787- Biirlin|rto&, N . J. , 390, 
5aa. 'Burlington, Vt., 578, 594-5» 766. 
Burntisland, Scot.t 536. Bury, Eng.^ j<)o. 
Bury St. Edmunds, En£., 645, 79a Bush- 
kill, Pa., ao7, 399. 341* 497- Binhnell, 
111.. 485-6. Butte, Mont., 788. Byron Center, 
N. Y., 215. 

Cabin John Bridge, D. C, 376, 497. Ca- 
couna, 0/U., 339-30. Cahir, Irt., 546. 
•Cairo, 111., 595- Calais, />., 558* 599- 
•GalAis, Me., 26a-8, 573, 609, 765. Calcutta, 
/W., 57x-a. Caldwell, N. J., 58, i6i-a, 
609,776. Caldwell, N. Y., xi, 39, 32, 186, 
191-2, 211, 510, 771. Caledonia, N. Y., 
to8, 222. Caledonia, £?»/., 332. Caledonia 
Springs, Oni., 327-8. Calistoga, Cal., 490. 
Callan, /r^., 79a. Calumet, Mich., 785. 
Camac (L. I.), N. Y., 158. Cambridge, 
Eng:., 533, 539, 541, 544, 557,646, 790- •Cam- 
bridge, Ms., 29, 51, loi, 103, 113, 402-3, 
435. 485, 5<7, 627, 657, 767. Cambridge, 
N. Y., 193. Cambridge, O., 245- Cam- 
bridgeport, Ms. , 5 16, 517, 767- *Camden, 
N. J., 173, a 18, 389-90, 521-2, 776. Camden, 
M S. W., 565.6. Cameron, N. Y., a 18. 
Camillus, N. Y., 208, ata. Campbellsburg, 
Ind., 336. Campbellton, Ont.f 329. Camp- 
belltown, N. S. fK., 565. Campbelltown, 
7<M., 564. Camperdown, Vict.^ 559-6o. 
Campobello, N. ^.,270, 279. Campton Vil- 
lage, N. H., 577. Canaan Four Comers, 
N. Y., 148. Canaan, Ct., 700. Canaan, 
N. Y., 197. 'Canandaigua, N. Y., 28, 
30, 3», 33. 58, »oi-2, 2o8< 212, ai3, 397, 479. 

488, 772. Canajoharie, N. Y., 200. Can- 
aetota, N. Y., 308, 336. Candleman's 
Ferry, Va., 383, 497- Caneadea, N. Y., 
3X4. 2x7. Canisteo^ N. Y., 2x7, 2x8. 
Canmer, Ky., 230. Canterbury, N. Y., 510. 
Canterbury, Eng., 530, 687. Canton, CA/., 
57a. Canton, Ct., 145. Canton, 111., 786. 
•Canton, O., 50X, 595, 609, 784. Canton, 
Ms., 27. Canton,. Pa., 499, 778. Cape 
Town, 5". A/., 696. Capon Springs. W. Va., 
495-7« Cap Rouge, Qm.^ 330. Capua, //., 
552. Caramut, VicL, 561. Carbon, Wyo., 
477. Carbondale, Pa., 340. Cardiff, i?»t^., 
683, 790. Caribridge, Scat., 556. Carlin, 
Nev., 477. Cariisle, Eng., 545, 554, 643, 
687. •Carliale. Pa., 45. 303, 344. 485. Car- 
k>w, OtU., 3x5. Carlstadt, N. J., 83-4, 

166-7, 588. *Canni, 111., 786. Carpenter, Pa., 
778. Camavon, Eitg.^ 79a. *Car80n, Nev , 
478. Carter, Wyo., 477, 48a Carrollton, 
N. Y., 333. Caaey, la., 478. Cashel, /re., 
546. Caeaadaga, N. Y.. 587, 773. Caia- 
burn Comers, Omt., 328. Castile, N. Y., 
323. Castlemaine, K«r/., 560-x. Castle- 
martyr, /r«., 546, 793. Castleton. N. Y., 
X48, X90, 197. Castleton, Vt., 184. Ca»- 
tres, Er., 552. Castroville, Cal., 490U 
Catford Hill, Engr.t 79o. Caihcart, Oni., 
317. *CatlettBburg, Ky., 486, 590. C»- 
tonsTille, Md., 373. •CataUll, N. Y., 
187-8, 19X, 198. Cattaraugus, N. Y., 333. 
Catterick, Eng., 545. Cauheme, Rotum., 
481. Cave City, Ky., 31, 231-3, 234, 597f 
609, 783. Cawnpore, Ind.f 57a. Caxton, 
Eng., 540-1. Cayuga, N. Y., 33, 208. Case- 
novla, N. Y., 43, 2x9. 296, 298, 302, 336, 
609, 773. Cedar Grove, N. J, x66u Cedar 
Rapids, la., 594. Center Harbor, N. H., 
576. Centerport (L. I.), N. Y., X5X. Cen- 
tertown, Mo., 485. Centerville, Cal., 493. 
Centerville, Ct., 135, X38, 149, 349, 581. 
Centerville, Ky., 233. Centerville, N. J., 
164. Centerville, N. Y., 335, 497. Center- 
ville, Va., 374. Central City, Neb., 478, 
489. Central Square, N. Y., 335. Chadd's 
Ford, Pa., 388, 390W Chaplin, Ky., 337. 
•Chambersburg, Pa., 303, 344, 485, 49S, 
497-8, 609. 778. Champaign, 111., 786. 
Chancellorsville, Va., 347, 352. Chao-choo- 
foo, CA/., 572. Chappaqua, N. Y., 76. 
Charing Cross, ifMr^., 531. Charing Cross, 
^m/., 332. 'Chariton, la., 787. Charles- 
bourg, OrU., 330. ocharleston. 111., 786. 
'Charleston, S. C, 355. 'Charleston, 
W. Va., 351. Charlestown, Ind., 335. 
Charlestown, Ms., 767. Charlestown, 
N. H., 575^. •Charlestown, W. Va., 
383-4. •Charlotte, N. C, 500. 78a. Chaiw 
lotle, N. Y., 333. Chariottetown, P. E. /., 
289-9X, 593. •Charlottesville, Va., 348, 
350-1. Chartiers, Pa.,594. Chateau Richer, 
Que., 33a Chatham, Eng.^ 598. Chatham, 
N. J., 163, 174, 776. Chatham, N. Y., 148, 
»97, 500, 609, 772. Chatham, Ont.f 331-a. 
Chatsworth, Oni,, 316. •Chattanooga, 
Tenn., 501, 783. Chautauqua, N. Y., 223. 
587. •Cheboygan. Mich., 785. Chelms- 
ford, Eni.f 645. Chelsea, Ms., 525, 530, 
663. 767. Chelsea, Omt.t 337. •Chelsea, 
Vt., 578. Chemnitz, Gtr., 552. Chemung. 



N. v., ai& Cbouuieo Forict, N. Y., 336^ 
Cherbourg, Fr., 599. Chefllilre, Ct., 30, 31, 
A «34-5t «3*-^ »50. 58*. 609. 769- Chesh- 
ire, £Mg,, 645-6. Cheshire, Me., 193. 
(hesterville, ID., 485. Chestnut Hill Reeer- 
voir, Ms., 39, 114. Chester, Sitg., 539. 
Chester, Ms., lai, 194. Chester, N. J., 
173. Chester, N, S., 288, 293. Chester, 
N. Y-, 340, $87. Chatter, Pa., 244, 37a, 
JHt 390. 778. CbaBtarton, Ind., 479. 
Chetkamp, ^. 5*., 289. *Gheyeime, Wyo., 
475. 478, 489, 609, 628, 788. •Ohifiago, 111., 
«, a«. 30, 3"i 33. 38, SO, 6x, 113, 223, 225,231, 
»43. a4Sf a96, 3«o, 3". 3»4, 3i7. 3*o-«, 324, 
4*6, 436, 474, 475, 47*^» 487-9. 499. 5o«. 
506, S08, 5»7-«9, 5«S-4, 5*9. 574. 585, 594-6, 
598, 616, 627, 643, 655, 672, 677, 679, 683, 
711, 712, 786. Chichester, Eng-', 694. 
Chifiopee, Ms., 31, 38, 118, 123-6, 181, 580, 
767. Ghleopee Falls, Ms., 124.5, i8x, 767. 
Chiltcni, Vici.y 565. Chinese Camp, Cal., 
491. CMtUmangO, N. Y., 336, 488. Chit- 
tenden, Ky., 225. Christchurch, N. Z., 
567-9, 652, 696, 794. Christiania, //^r., 70a 
Churchviile, N. Y., 215. Churohville, 
Md., 373. Cicero, N. Y., 335. •Cincin- 
nati, O., 31-3. "3. "3, *«5-6, 234, 488, 
50«, 594, 595, 597, 678, 784. Cindnnatus, 
H. Y., 336-7, 772. Cinnaminson, N. J., 
776. Cirencester, ^M^., 790. Clacton,^ at^., 
S59. Clandeboye, C>M/., 312-13,332. Clap- 
toii,^v, 534. Claremont, N. H., 574, 579. 
Clarence, Eugr., 544. Clarence, OmLj 327-8. 
Cbrendoo, Ont.f 338. Clarendon, f^jr/., 
559- •Clarion, Pa., 778. Clark's Ferry, 
Pa., 496. Clark*8 Summit, Pa., 34T. Clarks- 
ville, Md., 373, 376, 497. Clarkavllle, Mo., 
322. Clashmore Inn, Scoi.^ 536, 555. Clav- 
erack, N. Y., 197. Clay Center, Kan., 
485-6. •Clearfield, Pa., 204, 530, 593, 609, 
778. dear Spring, Md., 343, 344. Clear- 
ville, On/.f 310-12, 314. Clearville, Pa., 496. 
Uemensport, AT. S., 285. Clermont, N. Y., 
i«A •Cleveland, O., 315, 479, 487-8, 5<», 

5o«. 5*6, 59», 594-5. 627, 643-5, 784- Clcve- 
Und's MUi, Cal., 490. Clifton (S. I.), N. Y., 
377- Clifton Vorge, Va., 350. Clinton, 
Ct, (32. Clinton, Ms., 128. Clinton, 
N. Y., 77a. CDnton, Oni., 313, 315, 332. 
aipper Gap, Cal., 476, 480. Coster, N. J., 
8a Cloudman. Cal., 491. Cloverdale, 
Cal., 490W Clyde, N. Y., 488. Clyde, 
iY. 5.. 293. OmU Dale, Pa., 778. Coatee- 

▼ille. Pa., 388, 495- Coblentz, Gtr., 545. 
CobcuTK. Onl., 198, 304, 297,3x941, 3>3,3>5i 
523. Cochecton, N. Y., 57a Cockshntt, 
OfU., 333. Coffee Run, Pa., 244- Cohasset, 
Ms., 112. Cohoee, N. Y., 191-3, 773. Co- 
he, N. S. W., 561, 565. Colac, Vict., 560-1, 
563. Colbome, Qui., 319, 325. Colchester, 
EHi^., 541, 647. Coldbrook, Ms., 579. 
Gold Spring, N. Y., 194, 197, 50a Cold 
Spring Harbor (L. I.), N. Y., 28, 584. 77a- 
•Coldwater, Mich., 785. Colebrook, Ct., 
144, 146. Coleraine, Ms., 579. Colesville, 
Md., 376, 497. Colfax, Cal., 476. Colfax, 
la., 479- College Hill, O., 784. CoUinsby. 
OtU., 3*5- Collingswood, OrU., 316. Col- 
Unsville, Ct., 145. •Colorado Springe, 
Col., 788. Colosse, N. Y., 335. Columbia, 
N. J., 164. ColnmUa, Pa., 317, 378, 386, 
388-9, 486, 499, 609, 77S. •Columbia, S. C, 

782. •Columbua, Ga., 782. •Colnmtnis, 
Ind., 785. •Columbus, Miss., 783. Co- 
lumbus, N. Y., 587. •Colnmlnia, O., 245, 
487-8, 501, 595, 627, 784. Concord, Ms., 
103, 112, 597, 767. •Concord, N. H., 576-7, 
766. Conewango, N. Y., 223. Coney Island, 
N. Y, 27. Conneant, O., 479- Ckin- 
nelleviUe, Pa., 496. Conrad's Store, Ya., 
348. Conroy, Ont., 332. Conahohooken, 
Pa., 389. Constance, 57Cf«te., 552. Constan- 
tinople, Tur., 474. 480-3, 552, 571, 609, 792. 
Conway, Ms., 767. Conway, N. H., 515, 
577. Conyngham, Pa., 498. Qomo, Itafy, 
468. Como, Oni., 328. Cook's Bay, Omt., 
316. Coolatoo, Vict., 56a Cookston, Ont., 
316. Cooksvi]]e,<9x/., 318-19. Cooma,Ca]., 
492. •Cooperstown, N. Y., 197, 215, 378. 
Goopentown, Pa., 389. Copake Falls, 
N. y., 188. Copenhagen, Dm., 599, 645. 
Cordelia, Cal., 491. Corinne, Utah, 477. 
•Corinth, Miss., 352. Cork, /ry., 546, 645. 
•Coming, N. Y., 30, 2x6-19, 50X, 772. Cor- 
nish, N. H., 577. Cornwall, Ct, 143. 
Cornwall, N. Y., 171, 194, 197, 77a. Cornwall, 
Oni.^ 327. Cornwall, Vt., 579. Cornwall 
Bridge, Ct., 510. Comwall-on-Hndson, 
N. Y., 609, 772. •Corpus Christ!, Tex., 

783. Corry, Pa., 587, 609, 778. •Cort- 
land, N. Y., 772. •Corydon, Ind., 235. 
Cote St. Antoine, Qiu., 328. Cote St. Lnke, 
Que., 328. Coteaudu Lac, Que., 575. Cot- 
tage, N. Y., 223. •CooneU Binffi, la., 
478, 489, 595. Court House Station (S. I.), 
N. Y., 155. Courthmd, OtU., 332. Cove»> 



trf, Enf., 480, S33, 546, S5>* 5S4> 557> 654, 
6»3, 688, 690, 693, 694-6» 790. *Ooyingtoa, 
Ky., 30, »a5» 35 <» 59o. 678, 783. •Goving- 
Xmu Va., 486. CozMoUe, N. Y.» 190. 
Coyote, Cal., 49>- Craig's Meadows, Pa., 
341. Cranberry, O., 488. Craoe's Flats, 
CaU, 49«- Crane's Village, N. Y., 479. 
Crawford, Scot.f 556, 576. Crawfoi^ House, 
N. H., 576-7. Cresson Springs, Pa., 496. 
Crocker's, Cal., 491. Croton, N. Y., 194. 
Croton Falls, N. Y., 188, 772. Croydon, 
Eng., 480, 533, 790. Crown Point, N. Y., 
186. Crum's Point, Ind., 479. Cuddeback- 
ville, N. Y., 340, 587. Culbertson, Neb., 501. 
*Culpeper» Va., 348, 350. *Cuml)erlaaii, 
Md., 12, 29, 31, 238, 240-46, 782. Curwens- 
yillc. Pa., 609, 778, 

•Dallas, Tex., 628. DaltoD,Ms.,i2i,i93. 
Dalton, N. Y., 222. Dalwhinnie, Scat., 
556. Damascus, Md., 376. *Danbury, Ct., 
769. Panforth, Ont, 316. Danaville, N. 
Y., 33, 213-14, 218, 772. •Danville, 111., 
489. Danville, N. J., 164. Danville, Pa., 
778. Darby, Pa., 372, 390. Darien, Cl, 
<>39> 248. Darkesville, W. Va., 244. Dar- 
lington, yict., 559. Darniian, Ptr., 571. 
Dauphin, Pa., 496. *Davenport, la., 478> 
9, 489. Daventry, Eng., 556. DaviflviUe, 
CaL, 490-1. Dayton, Ky., 628, 783. •Day- 
ton, O., 501, 594-5. 784. Dayton, N. Y., 
221, 223, 772. Dealton, Ont., 310, 332. 

•Deoatnr, 111., 485-6. •Dedham, Ms., 29, 
33, 102, 107, 1x2. Dcerfield, Ms., 119, 182, 
579, 767. Deer Park, Md., 486. Deeth, 
Nev., 480. *Deflance, O., 609, 784. De 
Kalb, N. Y., 334- •Delaware, O., 784- 
Delaware, Ont., 331, 33a. Delaware Water 
Gap, Pa., 28, 163-4, 172. '89, 207, 341, 378, 
497, Delfshaven, Hoi., 553. Delhi, Ind., 
572. •Delhi, N. Y., 497-8. Delhi, Ont., 
332. Delle, France, 599. De Mossvitle, 
Ky., 590. Dennlaon, O., 784. Dennyi- 
vllle. Me., 264, 266, 271. *Denver, Col., 
501, 628, 788. Denville, N. J., 163, 170, 
207. Detby, Ct., 140, 142, 769. Derby, 
Eng., 539, 645-6, 790. Derringalluni, f^ict., 
560. Deacbambault, Qtu., 575. •Dea 
Hoinea, la., 479* 489, 595, 787. 'Detroit, 
Mich., 21, 48, 204, 210, 225, 296-8, 300,304-5, 
3»i. 3»5f 3«»-3. 333» 505. 59*. 594-5» 62$, 
628, 677, 785. Devon, Pa., 389, 609, 778. 
De Witt, Neb., 485. De Witt, N. Y., 479- 
Deztas, Me., siSi S74» 765- Dcxterville, N. 

Y., 2S3. Dieppe, Fr., 489, 552, 599, 600. 
Digby, N. S,, 28a, J84-5, 592. Dingimui** 
Ferry, Pa., 164. Dingwall, Sc4rt., 556. 
Disco, 111., 485-6. Diss, Eng., 538, 790^ 
DUon, Cal., 49f. DoMw Verry, N. Y.^ 
77-9. Docking, Eitg., 537-8. DodgevsUe, 
Ms., 107. DoDcaster, E^g., 539-40, 790. 
Dorehetter, Ms., 517.8, 527, 767. Dorset, 
Eng.f 646. Dorval, Otti., 328. Doflhan 
Tepe, /•«-,, 483. Doup's Point, Ky., 236. 
•Dover, Del., 781. Dover, Eng., 551, 598- 
9. •Dover, N. H., 575. Dover, N. J., 
>63-4> 173- Dover Plaina, N. Y., 582. 
Dover Point, Me., 575. Downingtown, 
Pa., 389. •Doylestown, Pa., 77& Drake»- 
town, N. J., 164. Drakesville, N. J., 163, 
207. Dreaney's Corners, Oni., 324. Dres- 
den, Ger., iz4» 437- Drifton, Pa.. 497-9- 
Dublin, Jre., 642, 645-6, 652, 654, 686, 695, 
792. Dublin, Ont., 313. Dulaney, Kan., 
788. Dulaney, Ky., 783. •Dultttti, Mmo., 
787. Dumfries, Scai., 554-5. 645, 686. 
Dana Penlele, //mm., 481. Duua Szekeao, 
^MM., 481. Dunbar, 5'^v^., 554. Dondiurdi, 
Eng.,sS7' Dundas,Oii/., 318. Dundee, ^r^/., 
792. Duncan, Neb., 478. Duneannon, 
Pa., 496. Dunedin, N. Z., 567, 652, 794. 
Dunellen, N. J., 172. Dungarvan, /rv., 546. 
Dunkdd, Oni., 3x5- Dunkirk, N. Y., 28, 
31, 58, 223, 772. Dunstable, Eng,, 541. 
Durham, Eng., 545, 645. Durham, Owt., 
316. Dusseklorf, G^r., 545. Dutdh Flat, 
Cal., 476. 

Eagle, Ont., 312. Eal'mg, Eng., 790. 
Karlham, la., 479. E. Almond Centre, 
N. Y. , 2 1 7. E. Attleboro, Ms. , 107. S. Aa-^ 
rora. N. Y., 208, 222. £. Avon, N. Y., 
213, 216. £. Berlin, Ct., 769. E. Bethel, 
Vt., 578. E. Bloom6eld, N. Y., 202,212, 
216,218. Eastbourne, Eng., 532, S44> 79Q^ 
E. Brimfield, Ms., 767. £. Brookfield, Ma., 
no, 128. E. Brookfield, Vt., 578. £. 
Bridgewater, Ms., 376. E. Cambridge, Ms., 
767. E. Canaan, Ct., 146. £. Chatham, 
N. Y., 148, 208. E. Fryeburg, Me., 577. 
E. Gainesville, N. Y., 222. E. Greenvkich, 
N. Y., 193. 'S. Greenvrieh, R. I., 513. 
581, 769. Bacthampton, Ms., 1x8-20, 580, 
767. E. Hartford, Ct., 123, 149, 582. E. 
Haven, Ct., 149. £. Lee, Ms., 148,208. E. 
Leon, N. Y., 223. E. Longmeadow, Ms., 
124-5, 254> 580. E. Long Branch, N. J., 
776. £. Lyme, Ct., 131. E. Lynde, Pa., 



387. fi» Machiaay Me., 171. Eastman 
Sprii^, Ont.,^^. £. New York (L. I.), 
584. E. Northwood, N. H., 577. E. Or- 
ange, N. J., 50S, 5S8f 6431 776. *£astoxi, 
Md., 593. •Kaaton, Pa., 173, 34», 378, 387, 
497» 609, 778- Bastport, Me., 357-8, a6o, 
a6s, a67-S, 274, a76, 879, 383-3, 573, 592. 
& Portlaiul, Or., 788. £. Providence, 
R. I., 107. E. Randolph, Vt., 578. E. 
Rochester, N. H., 525, 654-5, 670, 766. 
£. Saginaw, Mich., 785. E. Schodack, 
N. Y., ao8. E. Springfield, Pa., 205. E. 
Scroudsburg, Pa., 341. E. Tarrytown, N. Y., 
76. E. Walllngford, Vt., S79- E. Windsor 
Hm, Cl, 133, 254, 769. Eastwood, Oni.^ 
317. Eaton-Socon, EHg.^ 540-41. Echo, 
Utah, 477. Echuca, Vkt.^ 560. Eckley, 
CoL, 501. Eddington, Vict.^ 566. Eden 
Center, N. Y., 223. Edgertoxi, O., 479. 
Edgewater, N. J., 8z, 83. Edinburgh, ScoL^ 
513-4, 544, 554-6, 599, 642, 645-7, 686, 792. 
Edinburg, Va., 346, 388. Edward's Comer, 
N. Y., aa3. Edward's Ferry, Va., 497. Eid- 
wardville, Ind., 335. Edwardsville, Kan., 
485. ^Efflngham, 111., 48S. Eggerstown, 
IIL, 488. Eketahuna, A^. Z,y 568. Elaine, 
^v/., 559. Elbeuf, Fr.^ 480. Elbridge, 
N. Y., aoS, 312. BlglD, lU., 786. *Sllzar 
heth, N. J., 156, 158, 164, 167, 172, 17s, 177, 
583, 637, 776. Elizabethport, N. J. , 29, 32, 
156, 158, 5S3. *EUzab«thtowii, Ky., 237. 
EUaftbeihtown, N. Y., 211. Elk Grove, 
Cal., 491. Elkhom, Neb., 489. *£lko, 
Nev., 477. •Klkton, Md., 244, 37^, 497- 
•SUioott City, Md., 349, 373, 376-7, 497. 
EUiagton, Eng.^ 540. Ellington, N. Y., 
223, 773. Ellis, Ms., 107. ^Ellsworth, 
Me., 278, 574. Elmira, Cal., 476. 49». 
•Slmira, N. Y., 216, 218, 501, 594, 772. 
Elmsford, N. Y., 75, 76. Elmwood, Ct., 
136-7,350. Elsinore, 0«/.,3i6. Ely, i?«^., 
Sja, 539^ •Elyrla, O., 479, 609, 784. Elze, 
Gtr,, 523. Emmitaburg, Md., 385, 388. 
*Bmporia, Kan., 660, 78S. Enfiekl. Ct., 
253. Enfield, Eng.^ 790. Enfield, Ms., 123, 
13$, i8x, 5S0L Englawood, N. J., 30, 5», 
Bo-i, 84, 166-8. Ennis, Irt.y 646. Ennis- 
keHen, (?»/., 315. Ephrauh, Pa., 387. Ep- 
pbg, Eng.f 5S9-40- Eramosa, OiU,^ 318. 
*Sri0, Pa., 12, 28, 31, 50, 58, 85, 2oa, 204-6, 
»",3'«»3«7, 487-*, 5o«, 594-5- Erin, 0«/., 
316. Erlanger, Ky., 225. Erzeroum, Tur.^ 
482. Esbjerg, Den., 599. Eski Baba, 7W-., 

482. Essex Center, OiU,, 3X0-ZX. Eszek, 
Slav., 481. EUon, Eng., 533. *Sllgene 
City. Or., 788. Evans Mills. N. Y., 334. 
•Evanatoni Wyo. , 477- 'Evansville, Ind. , 
595. E verettto Pa. , 244, 496. Exeter, Eng. , 
533, 536, 554. •Exeter, N. H., 575, 766. 
Exeter, OtU., 313-5, 324, 333. Eydkuhneu, 
RHs.^fAj. Eye, -ffwjr., 539. 

Fabyan House, N. H., 576-7. Fakenham, 
^«^-, 537-8. ^Fairfax C. H-, Va., 374, 376. 
•Fairfield, CaL, 491. Fairfield, Ct., 138-9, 
148.243. Fairfield, Ky., 237. Fairfield, Me., 

765. Fairfield, N. J., 84, 169. Fairfield, OfU., 
310,789. FairfieU, Pa., 385. FairfieW, Va., 
349, 495- Fair Haven, Ct., 133, 138, 149. 
Fair Haven, Vt., 184. Fairroount, Ber., 
362. Fairmount, Ind., 236. Fairview, 
Md., 243. Fairview, N. J., 84. Fairyland, 
Bsr.y 361. Falkirk, Scat., 404. Fall Brook, 
Pa., 594. Falling Waters, W. Va., 344, 348. 
Fall Elver, Ms., 31-2, 85, loi, 108, 593, 767. 
Falla Church, Va., 374, 376. Falls City, 
Pa., 245. ^Faribault, Minn., 787. Farm- 
ers' Crossing, Ky., 485-6. Farmersville, Ms., 
109. Farmingdale (L. I.), N. Y., 58, 150-3. 
Farmington, Cal. , 49 1-2- Farmlngton, Ct. , 
137, MS, U9, 581. Farmington, N. H., 
576-7. Farms Village, Ct., X45. Farnbor- 
ough Station, Eng,, 646. Farrah, A/g., 
571. Farringdon, Eng., 532. Father Point, 
Que., 329. Fayette, N. Y., 336. Fayette- 
viUc, Pa., 495. Featherston, N. Z., 56S-9. 
Feeding Hills, Ms., 123, 125-6, 144, 146. 
Fergus, Ont., 316. *Fenuuidina, Fla., 
597, 628, 783. Fern Creek, Ky., 236. Field- 
ing, N. Z., 568. Fife, Scot., 792. Fillmore, 
N. Y., 217. Finchville, Ky., 33^ Finchley, 
^'^e- y 53 »-2- •Findlay, O. , 488, 784. Fish- 
er's Hill, Va., 345, 49S. FishersviUe, Ms., 
109. Fishkill-on-Hudflon, N. Y., 194-5, 
258, 582. *Fitchburg, Ms., 114, 500, 523, 
579, 594, 597, 767. Fitzwilliam, N. H., 

766. Five Stakes, Ont., 312. Flanders, Ct., 
131. Flanders, N. J., 164. Flatts, Ber., 
359-61, 366. *Flemington, N. J., 733. 
Flesherton, O1U., 3x6. Flint, Eng., 645. 
•Flint, Mich., 595. Florence, //., 4291 55*- 
Florence, Ky., 325. Florence, Ms., 119, 

767. Florida, N. Y., 772. Florin, Pa., 779. 
Floyd, N. Y., 210. Flume, N. H., The, 61, 
576. Flushing (L. I.), N. Y., 12. 29, 31-3, 
51-2, 90-1, 152-3, 155, 772. Foggia, //., 552. 
Folkestone, Eng., 599. •Fonda» N. Y., 



soo, 9o8y ait. Fontenoy, Fr.^ 48a Foot»- 
cray, VicLj 559. Fordham, N. Y., 72, 772. 
Fordham Landing, N. Y., 583. Fordwich, 
Oni., 314. Forest Hill, Eng., 645- Forks 
of Kennebec,. Me., 573-4. Forres, Scot.^ 
645. Forrest, Ont., 332. Ft. Albert, Ber.^ 
360. Pt.Bridger,Wyo.,477- *Ft Dodge, 
la., 59S. Ft. Edward, N. Y., 29, 51,58, 
189,191-3. Ft. Hamilton, N. Y.,90. Ft. 
Hunter, N. Y., 200. Ft. Jefferson, Mo., 
484. Ft. Leavenworth, Kan., 628, 788. 
Ft. Lee, N. J., 30, 32, 72, 81-5, 165, 583, 
612. Ft. Loudon, Pa., 485. Ft. Miller, N. 
Y., 19a Ft. Morgan, Col, 501. Ft. Ni- 
agara, N. Y., 222. Ft. Plain, N. Y., aoo, 
ao8, 488. Ft. Porter, N. Y., 588. Ft. St. 
George, Ar., 358. Ft. St. George, N. Y., 
583. Ft. Schuyler, N. Y., 74, 246. Ft. Sid- 
ney, Col., 475. Ft. Steele, Wyo., 478. •Ft. 
Wayne, Ind., 487, 595, 786. Ft. William, 
OtU.,7Si). Ft. Worth, Tex., 783. Fostoria, 
O., 784. Fowlerville, N. Y., 214. Fox- 
boro', Ms., 107. FramlTigham, Ms., 29, 
51, 113-14, 117,514,680, 767. Francestown, 
N. H., 575. Franconia, N. H., 576-7. 
Frankford, Pa., 3S8-9. 'Frankfort, Ky., 
51, 225, 232-4. Frankfort, N. Y., 200. 
Frankfort, Ger., 552, 700. Franklin, N. J., 
i6i-2, 169. Franklin, N. Y.,498. •Frank- 
lin, Tenn., 352. Franklin Falls, N. H., 
577- Franklinvllle, N. Y., 208. Frank- 
town, Oxi.^ij. •Frederick, Md., 29,31, 
33» 238, 242-3, 349, 37^7. 487. Fredericks- 
burg, Ind., 235. Fredericksburg, Va. , 352. 
Fredericktown, Ky., 230. •Frederick- 
town. Mo., 787. Freedom, N. H., 577. 
Fredonia, N. Y., 50, 205-6, 223, 587, 772. 
Freeport, Ont., 316. Freibourg, Ger., 552. 
•Fremont, Neb., 478. •Fremont, O., 479. 
Frcssingfield, Eng"., 539. Freudenstadt, 
Ger., 481. Friendship, N. Y., 223, 772. 
Frizinghall, Efig-., 790. •Front Bojral, 
Va., 35X. Froetbnrg, Md., 243. Frye- 
hnrg. Me., 576-7. Fulda, Ger., 552. Ful- 
lerton, On/., 332. FultonvUle, N. Y., 200. 
Funkstown, Md., 244. Ferriman, Per., 571. 
Gainesville, N. Y., 222. Gainesville, Va., 
375. Galena, Ind., 235. Gait, O/U., 317, 
324, 491. •Galveston, Tex., 783. Gam- 
Wer, O., 784. Gananoque, Ont., 317, 325-61 
333. Gang Mills, N. Y., 2 to. Gan pris 
Pau, Fr., 702. Garden City (L. I.), N. Y., 
152, 530. Gardiner, Me., 573. Gardner, 

Ms., 579, 767. •Gamett, Kan., 788. Gar- 
rison's, N. Y., 29, 193, 609, 77a. GarsUDe, 
"^V-» 556. Garwood, N. Y., 222. Gasport, 
N. Y., 217. Gateshead-on-Tyne, Eng., 79a 
Gauley's Bridge, W. Va., 351, 486. Gay- 
lord's Bridge, Ct., 582. Geddes, N. Y., 
201,212. Geelong, K/W., 559-61, 563. G«l- 
vington, Ky., 590. Ctoneseo, 11L, 479, 489. 
•Geneseo, N. Y., 2x3. Geneva, N. Y., 
20S, 213, 772. Geneva, O., 488. Geneva, 
Sw/fz., 545, Genoa, 111., 786. Genoa, //., 
552. Georgetown, b. C, 12, 241-2, 374, 
376, 497> 782. •Ctoorgetown, Ky., 51, 226, 
333-4- Ctoorgetown, N. Y., 337. George- 
town, A'. S., 29a Georgetown, 0«/., 3x8-19. 
Gera, Ger., 551-a. Germantown, Ky., 590L 
Germantown, AT. S. IV., 565-6. German- 
town, N. Y., 197, 498. Germantown, Pa., 389, 
779. Gerry, N. Y. , 587, 772. •Gettysburg, 
Pa., 242, 303, 347, 352, 385-6, 388, 486, 495, 
499» 779' Ghalikue, i4/5r>» 57 »• Ghent, 
N. Y., 197. Gilroy, Cal., 490, 492-3. Gi- 
rard. Pa., 12, 205-^, 479, 488, 779. Girtford, 
^"i"'* 540-1. Glasgow, Sco/., 534, S4S-6f 

555. 645-7» 695, 698, 792. Glassboro, N. J., 
390, 522. Glenbrook, Cal., 490. Glendale, 
Ms., 148. Glenfield, Pa., 779. Glen House, 
N. H., 577. Glenrowan, yic/., 566. Glen's 
Falls, N. Y., 186, 189, 19T-3, 609, 772. 
Glen Station, N. H., 577. Gbnville, Ct, 
138. Glenwood, Md., 782. Glenwood, Pa., 
341. Gloucester, Eng^., 536, 539, 554-7, 645. 
Gloucester, Ms., 505, 512, 609,655,674-5, 
767. Gloucester, N. J., 390, 522. God- 
erich, Om/., 204, 301, 313-5, ?23-4, 331, 789. 
•Goldendale, Wash., 788. Gold-hill, CaL, 
476. Gold Run, Cal., 476. Golspie, Scai., 

556. Gordonsville, Va., 348, 350-1. Gor- 
ham. Me., 515. Gorham, N. H., 576-7. 
Goshen, Ct., 143. •Goshen, Ind., 236, 
479. •Goshen, N. Y., 340, 587. Goshen, 
Va., 351, 486. Gottingen, G^'., 522. Goul- 
burn, y. S. W., 561, 564-6, 793. Qonver- 
neur, N. Y., 334. Govanstown, Md., 377. 
Grafton, Ms., 103, 378. Grafton, Oni., 319. 
Granby, Ct., 145, 581. 'Grand Island, Neb., 
478, 4S9. Grand Metis, Que., 329. Grand 
Pr^, N. S., 284, 286. 'Grand Forks, Dak., 
609, 78S. •Grand Bapids, Mich., 505, 519, 
595. 7*5- Granger, Wyo., 477. Granite- 
ville (S. I.), N. v., 157. Grant, N. Y., 210. 
Grantham, Eng"., 540-1, 553. Granville, 
Ms., 144, 146. Granville, ^. S., 2S4-5. 



Gnvnend, Em^.^ S99» Graveaend (L. I.)> 
N. Y., 90u Gravois, Mo., 535. *Gr»780il, 
^1'* 35>>48S' Gray's Summit, Mo., 485-6. 
Oraat Bunington, Ms., 148, 70a Great 
Bend, N. Y., aS, 31, 207, 338, 341. Great 
Berkhamsted, ^Mff •> 473f 480. Great Bethel, 
Va., 439* Greftt IUIb, N. H., 637, 766w 
Great Falls, Va., 241, 376. Greenbush, 
N. v., 190-1, 197. *Qzeeiu»stle, Ind., 
485-6. Qreenc a atle , Pa., 46. 296, 303, 344, 
49S- Graane, N. Y., 336, 498. *Greexi- 
llidd, Ms., II, 27, a9, 31, 51, 119, 182-3, Z94, 
378, 500, 579, 767. Greenland, Pa., 244. 
Greenock, Scot.^ 792. Cteeenpoint (L. I.), 
N. Y.,91. Oreanpoit (L. I.), N. Y., 12, 
a«. sa-3. «5o-5- •Qwen BiTer, Wyo., 477- 
^QraeiiBlniziB, Jnd., 786. ^QreensbiiTg, 
Ky., 239. *€breeiuiliiirg. Pa., 539, 779. 
Green's Farms, Ct., 138. Green Tree, Pa., 
389. Greenville, Ind., 235. Greenville, Me., 
574. QreenTille, Mich., 785. Greenville, 
N. J., 776. GreenTlUe, Pa., 341, 779. 
•Gfae&Tllle C. H., S. C., 782. Greenville, 
Va., 349. Greenwich, Ct., 138.9, 248, 581-2, 
609, 769U Gffeenwleh, N. Y., 772. Green- 
wood, N. Y., 171. Grenoble, Fr., 698. 
Gretna Green, Se&e,^ 553, 556-7. Grimsby, 
Oni.^ 315. CMnziel], la., 478-9, 787. Qria- 
WCdd, la., 478. Groton, Ct., 153. Grotto, 
//., 552. Grotzka, Serv., 481. Grovcland, 
Cal., 491. Groveport, O., 785. Grovesend, 
0$tt.t 331. Groveton, CaL, 492. Groveton, 
N. H-, 576. Groveton, Va., 375. Guelph, 
OMi., 31S-7, 319* 331- Guildhall Falls, N. H., 
577. QoUford, Ct., 132. Guillimbury, 
Owi., 316. GuU Mills, Pa., 389. Gundagai, 
y. S. H^., 565-6. Gunnersbury, Ettg'., 645. 
Gunning, M S. JV.^ 561, 565-6. Gutten- 
berg, N. J., 81, 83, 16S. Guyroard Springs, 
NY., 497. Guysboro. N. S., 2S9. 

•Hankenaeck, N. J., 30, 84, 165.6, 168-9, 
776. Haokettstowxi, N. J., 164, 173, 776. 
Haddonfield, N. J.. 390, 522, 776. Hadley, 
Ms., ISO. *Hag ei»Uiwii , Md., 39, 338-9, 
a42-5, 303, 344. 346, 348, 350-1, 384, 387-8, 
486.7, 495, 609, 78a. HagersviUe, Oni., 332. 
Halle, GIrr., 522. Halleck, Nev., 477. Hal- 
ifas, A^. .S"., 282, 286^, 292-3, 355, 364.5, 592, 
609, 790. Haigler, Neb., 501. *Haile7, 
Id., 609, 788. Hamburg, Gtr., 551, 599. 
Hamburg, Ind., 235. Hainbiirg, N. Y., 
223. Hamburg, ^>>i/., 317. Hunburg, Pa., 
343. Ilamdeo, Cl, 134. Hamilton, Bfr.^ 

355» 358-9» i^^-^t 59», 609, 790. •Eun^ 
iltoxu O., 501, 594-5, 785. Hamilton, Ont.t 
314-S, 3i7» 324, 33'-*» 593. 634, 789. Ham- 
ilton, yic/., 560^1, 563, 793. Hamilton, 
Va., 344, 497> Hammersmith, jE^w^., 551. 
Hammondsville, N. Y., an. Hammonton, 
N. J., 522. Hunpton, N. H., 102, 512. 
Hampton Court, £n^., 4t 532, 545, 548. 
Hancoclt, Md., 339-40, 343, 344-51 496. 
Hancock, Vt., 578. Hanover, Ct., 134. 
Hanover, Gtr., 522, 651. Hanover, N. H., 
766. Hanover, N. J., 163-4. Hantsport, 
M^.,a86. Hanwell, ^M^.,646. Hanley, 
Ehg"-! 665. Hardington, N. J., 533. Har- 
densburg, Ind., 335. Hardwick, Ms., 579. 
Harford, Md., 377. Harlem, N. Y., 30, 
32-3, 55. 57. a49. 583, 612. 772, 774. Har- 
lingen, N. J., 172. Harpenden, Eugr-, 553- 
Harper, Kan., 7S8. Haxper*s Ferry, W. 
Va., 29, 3 1, 240-3, 347-8, 350. 384* 496. •Har- 
risburg, Pa., 244, 303. 343» 35». 496, 498, 
779. Harrison, Me., 574. ^Harrison- 
bnrg, Va., 346^, 382, 388, 497.9, 628, 782. 
*Harrodsburg, Ky., 51, 226-7, 234, 236. 
Harrogate, Enjg:, 636, 642. Harrold, E^g"., 
540. *Haztford, Ct., n, 12, 36-7, 28, 30-a, 

37. 39. 42-3. 46-7, "8, 123-3, "5. "8, 133, 
136-8, 145, M3-9, 173. «79-8i, 183, 191, 234, 
a49-5«. 253. 372-3, 377-8. 388, 401, 501, 5»o, 5^3. 
524, 580-2, 593, 609, 615,625, 627-8, 632,655, 
675, 677, 769. Harud, -4/^., 571. Harwich, 
Enjg:., 599. Hastings, EMg'.^ 641, 682. 
*Ha8tlngS, Minn., 487. Hastings, N. Y., 
335. Hastings, N. Z., 569. Hastings-on- 
Hudson, N. Y., 75, 77, 5S6. Hatte Bay, 
Que.t 329. Hatfield, Eng:, 540-1, 790. Hat- 
field, Ms., 119, 182-3. Hatton, Eng., 543. 
'Havana, 111., 485-6. Havant, Eng., 790. 
Haverford College, Pa., 389, 779. Haver* 
hill, Ms., 523, 577, 767- Havre, Fr., 599. 
Havre de Grace, Md., 244, 372, 377-8, 497. 
Hawkesbury, Ont, 327-8. Hawley, Pa., 
340, 609, 779. Hawthorne, Ont., 327. Haw- 
trey, Ofti., 332. Haydeu's, Ct., 31, 181, 251. 
Haydenville, Ms., 119, 767. Haselton, 
Kan., 7S8. Hazleton, Pa., 498, 779. 
Healdabnrg, Cat., 490. Hebron, A^. S., 
283. Hebronville, Ms., 107. Heda, Pa., 
498. Heidelberg, Ger., 522, 545, 552. 
•Helena, Mont., 788. Helensburgh, E/ig'., 
646. Hempstead (L. I.), N. Y., 138, 150-2, 
154. 'Henderson, Ky., 590, 609, 783. 
•Henderson, Minn., 787. Hendrysbuig, 



a, 4S5- *Heii3l0pi]i, III, 4S9. Herat, 
A/g.^ 48af 57«- Hereford, Bng.^ 53^ 
•Hfirkimer, N. Y., 208. Hermouli, Rcum., 
481. Hertford, Eng.t 540-1. Hespeler, 
Ottt^t 31 ;• Hettingen, Bel., 545. Heuvel- 
ton, N. Y., 334- HicksviHe (L. I.), N. Y., 
51, 153-3. Highgate, Bn^.^ 540. Highland 
Cf«ek, Ont., 319. Highland Mills, N.Y., 171, 
609,77a. mghland Park, III., 787. High- 
lands, N. Y., 172, 19S. High Top Gap, 
Va., 348. High Wycombe, Eng.^ 645, 790L 
Hilliard, Wyo., 477- Hillsboro, N. H., 575. 
Ujllsburg, OnL, 316. Hillsdale, N. Y., 1^. 
HiU*s Valley, Cal., 490. Hind Head, Bng., 
777. Hinds Comers, Pa., 339. Hingham, 
Ms., 112. HlnwUle, Ms., 121. HiiwdAle, 
N. H., 579. Hinsdale, N. Y., 152-3. 
Hitchin, Eng.^ 540-1, 557-8. Hitchcockville, 
Ct., 144- Hobart, 7«*., 560, 563-4, 652, 
794. Hoboken, N. J., 32, 83.3, 85, 168, 172, 
5^3* 77^' Hodnet, Bng.^ 555. Hoffman's 
Ferry, N. Y., 32. Hoguestown, Pa., 343. 
Hohokus, N. J., 169. Hokitika, N. Z., 
569. Holland, N. Y., 222. Holland Patent, 
N. Y., 210, 213. Holland's Landing, Oitt., 
3r6. •SoUliter, CaL, 492. Hollteton, 
Ms., 767. HoUowviUc, N. Y., 188. •HoUy 
Springs, Miss., 783. Holmesville, Ont., 
313.' Holmsdale, Scot.t 556. Holycross, 
/rv. , 546. Holyhead, Emg. , 686. Holyoke, 
Ms., 31, 58, H7-8, 120, 123-6, 135, 183, 191, 
2S'» 5*4, 5«7. 609. 7^7' Homar, Mich., 323. 
HomeitlMUl, la., 479. Homestead, N. J., 
83-4. Homestead, Pa., 779. *Honatdale, 
P»-. 44, 30a, 339-40, 501. Hope, N. J., 164. 
Hopedale, Ms., 767. Hoptown, Cal., 490. 
Hoosick Corners, N. Y., 193, 51a Hootiek 
FUl8, N. Y., 193. HornellsviUe, N. Y., 
30, 216-7, 222. HoraaheadB, N. Y., 216. 
Horton, A^. ^., 286. Housatonic, Ms., 148. 
•Howard, Kan., 788. Howard, Minn., 
787. Huddenifield, Eng.^ 645. Hudson, 
Col., 501. ^Hudson, N. Y., 29, 32, 51, lai, 
190, 192, 195-8, 258, 488, 510, 609, 772. 
Hudson, On/., 32S. Hughsonville, N. Y., 
194-5. Hulett's Landing, M. Y., 29, 32. 
Hull, Oh/., 327. Hull, Eng., 545, 599- 
Humboldt, Nev., 476. Hummclstown, Pa., 
343. Hunter, N. Y., 505. Hunter's Point 
(L. L), N. Y., 28, 31-2, 58, 91, 96-7, 99, 151, 
153. Huntingdon, Eng, 539, 541. *Hunt- 
ingdon. Pa., 244, 779. *HuntingtoD, Ind., 
786. Himtlngt(m, Ms., 121, 194. Hant* 

iagtonCL. L), N. Y., 151. Harunui, AT. Z., 
567-9. Hutonburg Comers, Ofti., 127. 
HydA Park, Ms., 767. Hyde Park, 
N. Y^ 497. 

Icbtiman, Bamm., 481. Idlewild, N. Y., 
197. Dion, N. Y., 200, 208. •Indapeodp 
enoe, Mo., 485-6. *Indiaaa» Pa., 610, 779. 
•Tndianapolia, Ind., 485-8, 501, 595, 6ro, 
628, 786. *fniHanola, la., 787. Indian 
Castle, N. Y., 479. Indian Oiohazd, Ms., 
29, 104, no, (17, 124-6, 181, 252. Ingleaide, 
Ms., 125. Ingersoll, Of$t., 324, 332. Inver- 
may, (?«/., 316. Inverness, Sc^i., 536, 554. 
Inwood, N. Y., 7s. lona. On/. , 3 12. *Iowm 
City, la., 479, 489- Iowa Fans, la., 628, 
789. Ipswich, Eng.^ 532, 538-9, 599. Ips- 
wich, Ms., 112, 510, 512. Ireland Parish, 
Ms., 118, 125. Ireland Point, iZrr., 358. 
Irkutsk, Bus., 570. Ironsides, Ont., 327. 
Irving, N. Y., 204, 527. Irrington, Ind., 
786. Inrlngton, N. Y., 75, 79, 162, 164, 
174-5, 198. Irwin, Pa., 779. Ithpeming, 
Mich., 785. Isle Madame, N. S., 289. lale 
Parent, Que., 328. l8]ip(L. I.), N. Y., 150, 
15a. Ismidt, Tur., 481-2, 570. *IUiaoa, 
N. Y., 497-8. 77a. 

Jackman's Plantation, Me., 574. *Jaek- 
SOn, Mich., 501, 785. Jackson, N. H., 577. 
Jacksonville, Cal., 491. Jacksonville, Vt., 
579. Jacktown, O., 486. Jagodina, «S>nr., 
481. •Jamaica (L. I.), N. Y., 90, 151^, 
772. Jamaica Plain, Ms., 575, 767. 
Jaman's Gap, Va., 347. JamOBtOWn, N. 
Y., 221, 587, 6ro, 772. Jamestown, O., 
785. Jamestown, Pa., 206, 223, 485. Jar- 
vis, Oni., 332. ^Jefferson, la., 628, 787. 
•Jefferson, Wis., 787. •Jefferson City, 
Mo., 486. Jeffersontown, Ky., 236. •Jef- 
fersonTille, Ind., 235, 595. Jafferson- 
▼ille, O., 245. Jenkintown, Pa., 779. 
Jenksville, Ms., 104, no, 117, 126, 181, 352. 
Jericho (L. I.), N. Y., 151-a. Jerome Park, 
N. Y., 71, 73, 582. Jersey, Ont., 316. 
•Jersey City, N. J., 30, 5«, «», 85, 97, 149, 
156, 168, 342, 388, 510, 583, 6a8, 776. Jex^ 
seyflliore. Pa., 779. John 0'Groat's,^r«/., 
497, 532, 536, 544, 548, 553-7, 685. Johnson- 
burg, N. J., 163, 207. Johnston Corners, 
(?«/., 315. * Johnstown, N.Y., 196. Jobns- 
town. Pa., 496, 530, 779- ♦Jollet, III., sot. 
534. Jonesport, Me., 274. Jordan River, M 
^•t >93- Jordanville, Ct., 131. Jugiong, A^. 
S. Ur., 564^. •Junction City, Kan., 788. 



U. N. Y., ai6, s8a. Kaklu, /"m, 
S7I. iCaiora, yiU.^ 563. Kamouraska, Qm., 
319.30. •KaiUuikM, IIL, 787. KaniM 
CttTi Mo., 473. 486, 595, 7«7. Kaiapoi, N. 
Z., s68-9> Kariex, /'«r., 571. Kanthia, 
XKtf., ssa. Xatonali. N. Y., 773. *Kmi«- 
aer. Neb., 475, 47S> 4Se- KMMTlUa, N. 
Y.,jii. Keilor, Kj^., 563. KeUogg. U, 
479- K«]«e7Vill«.CaL,490' KeltoD, Utah, 
477. Kendal, iSiv-i 53^ 555- KemUU- 
TUle, IncL, 479. Kennebec, Me., Forks of 
tbe, 573-4. KeoiMdy, N. Y., 223. KOh 
B«tt Sqwure, Pa., 779. Kenaington, En£.t 
5$4» 64S' KentTille, M ^., 385. Kerns- 
unrn, Va., 345. Keasock, i^nv-, 5361 Kea> 
wick, Ettg., 646, 791. Keswick, Ont.t 316. 
Keuerioig, £1^., S40w Kettle Pt., (?»/., 
33a. Kboi, Ptr.t 483. KiUarney, Ir*.^ 546, 
6$a. Kimbokon, iffMtf'., 539. Kincardine, 
OmL^ 315, 789. Kinrturhoftt, N. Y., 148, 
19^, 610, 77a. Kin-gan-foo, Chi, $7*' 
Kiagsliridce, N. Y., 64, 66, 78, 98, s8a'3. 
Kingston, JEiv-, S44. Kingston, N. J., 377. 
'KSnertom, N. Y., 188, 198. Kingston, 
(?«/., ao4, 397, 300, 3«7, 3«9-a6, 333, 5»3i 
610,789. KingMoo, Pa., 330. Kingston, 5*. 
Am$., s6ol Kingussie, Sc^,, 555-6^ Kings- 
TiUe, {?«/., 301, 31a KintnetSTiUa, Pa., 497. 
Kintore, Omi., 333. Kk>to,/dt/., 793. Kirk- 
ton. OMi., 333. Kittery, Me., lox, 346, 575. 
Kio Kiang, CA/., 57a. Knight's Ferry, Cal., 
491-3. Knotty Ash, Et^., 557. Knowltoo, 
N. J., 164. •Kokomo» lad., 786. Kreage- 
villt. Pa., 341. Kurrachec, /«^, 571. 
KaixiowD, Pa., 387. Kyamba, N. S. H^., 
565. Kyoeton, K*c/., 559, 561-3. 

LaceyriUe, Pa., 319. Lachine, Qnf., 338. 
La Chata Mills, Omt., 789. Lackawaxen, 
Pa., 340. Laooda, N. Y., 335. TiftQonta, 
N, H., 576-7. •htk Crow«, Wis., 787. 
Lalamn, Xtu., 571. «Lft Fayette, Ind., 
S3S, 786. *If»gr«Bge, Ind., 336. Lahore, 
/mL, S7a. Laird, Neb., 501. *IiBke City, 
CoL, 788W nAke Qeorge, N. Y., 609, 773. 
Lake Pleaaeet, Ma., 378^ Lakeville, Ct., 
i43r ■47- lakeville, N. Y., 193. Lake- 
wood, N. y., 333. Lambeth, Otti., 331, 519. 
lU., 479- Lemonte. Mo., 47S> 
ir, Ettg., 554. Leaeaster, Ms., 
579^ •LaaeMter, N. H., 575-7, 676, 766. 
TenwtT, N. Y., ao8, 315. ^LaiioMter, 

P*., 164, 344* J'7i S*3. 378, 386, 388^ 
486> 49S^. TT* iMdwrillt, Pa., 3891 77*. 

Land's Bnd, Em^., 397, 533, 536, 548, 55^-7. 
685. Lanesboro, Ms., lai. LanesyiJIe, Ky., 
335. Langenwcddingen, Xui., 687. Lang- 
ford, Efi£:, 558. Lansdowne, C!n/., 335. 
TjawtlTiC, Mich., 501, 50s, 595, 785. jMOr 
ilngbws, N. Y., 193. Leona, N. Y., 
aa3, 5S7. ^Laporte, Ind., 479. Laprade, 
Fr,, 551. *Laraiiiie, Wyo., 473-41478.480, 
788. Larrabee's Point, Yt.. 579. La Salle, 
N. Y., 315. Latsobe, Pa., 610, 779. 
Laurel, Md., 377. Laurel Hill, Pa., 485. 
Laumoot, Fr.t 558. Launceston, Tas., 560, 
563-4. Lausanne, Swiiz., 545. ^Lawreoce, 
Kan., 485, 788. *LawTenee, Ms., ixa> 514. 
768. ^Lawxenoelmrg, Ind., 336. Law- 
rencetown, M S., 385. LawrenceviUe, N. 
J-f 377* 777' LaytoBsville, Md., 376. Lead- 
enharo, ^xf., 539. ^LeadvUle, Col., 643. 
788. Leamington, Ont., 310^ 'Lel^aaoil, 
Ky., 329, 334, 610, 783. Lebanon, N. Y., 
197. ^Lebanon, O., 785. •Lebanon, Pa., 
3Q3* 343> 485, 779' I'M, Ms., i3i, 146, 148, 
30S, 6x0, 768. Leeds, Em£^., 636, 645-6, 791. 
^Leeaburg, Va., 497. Leestown, Pa., 343. 
Lee's Summit, Mo., 486. Leete's Island, 
Ct., 133. Lseu warden, ^0/., 553. Leghorn, 
//., 700. Lehighton, Pa., 399, 341 > 610. 
Leicester, Sm^., 53a. 539. 5S3» 643. Leices- 
ter, Ms., 103, 110, 114. Leipsic, C7«r., 114, 
651. Leith, Se^., 645. Leitersburg, Md., 
385. Le Mans, Fr., 699. Lemay Ferry, 
Mo., 535. Lempster, N. H., 575. Lenox, 
Ms., 148, 700. Lenox, N. Y., 208. Lenox 
Furnace, Ms., 148. Leominater, Ms., 579. 
I^eon, N. Y., 333. Leonardsville, N. Y.. 
773. Le Roy, N. Y., 308, 331, 479. 487. 
773. Lrcainore, /rr., 546. Lethbridge, K«r/., 
559. . Level, Md., 373. Level, O., 785. 
Lewes, Emg., 539. •LewlabUPg, W. Va.. 
351, 486. Lewiaton, Me., 765. Lewistoa, 
N. Y., 333. Lewiston, On/., 335. *Lewla- 
towB, 111., 485-6. •Lewiatown, Pa., 344. 
496. Lewisville, Ind., 485. •Lexington, 
Ky., 336, 333-4, 501, 537, 783. Lexington, 
Ms., 39, 5't >o3i 386. 517, 768. •Lexing- 
ton, Va., 347, 349-S«. 495- Leytonstone, 
Eng'.^ 791. Lima, N. Y., 308, 313. *Lima, 
O., 488, 501. Limekiln, Pa., 389. Lim- 
erick, /r#., 79a. Limerick, Me., 577. Lime 
Book, Ct., 769. Lincoln, £«r-, 539> *Lin- 
OOln, III., 486, 489- Lincoln, Omi., 323. 
Lincoln Park, N. J., 777. Linlithgow, Scai., 
645. •Linn, Mo., 485. Liabon, N. H., 



577. I-tole, N. v., 497* L'IsIet, Que., 
329-30. Listowel], Ottt., 314-5* *Litell- 
flald, Ct., i4i-s> 148, s8i. Little, Ky., 336. 
Little Boar's Head, N. H., 513. Little Falls, 
N. J., 30, 84, 165, 167, 169. Littto FaUs, 
N. Y., 200, 202, 20S, 48S, 772. Little Metis, 
Q***'* 329-30> Little Mount, Ky., 236. 
Little Neck (L. L), N. Y., 151-3, «55- 
•LlUle Book, Ark. , 783. Littleton, N. H., 
61, 576-7. •Little Valley, N. Y.. 223. 
Liverpool, -ffn^f., 99, 406, 473M, 480-2, 527, 
532, 553» S5<^7. 570, 592. 636, 642, 645-7.686, 
791. Liverpool, N. JT., 28S. Liverpool, 
N. S. IV., 561, 565-6. Livingston, N. Y., 
220. Llandaff, ^«^., 558. Llandyssul, ^»j'., 
791. Uoyd's Neck (L. L), N. Y., 151. 
Lodge Pole, Neb., 478. Lockerbie, Scot., 
536. *Lock Haven, Pa., 779. Lockland, 
O., 785. 'Lockport, N. Y., 316-7, 222, 
325. 5o(, 772. *Logan8port» Ind., 786. 
London, En^., 63, 99, 129, 280, 292, 353, 
365, 402-6, 426-S, 436, 444, 448, 464, 467, 
470-2, 474-5. 480.1, 517, 524, 530-41, 544. 
547-8, 5SO-I, 553-8, 567, 598-9, 602, 611, 627, 
636, 642-7, 654, 656-9, 662, 670, 681-91, 693, 
695-6, 698-9, 791, 798. London, Oni., 204, 
3«, 3«4-5, 3*9. 3»i. 33', 33*. 634-5. 654, 669, 
789. Londsboro, Otti., 332. Long Island 
City, N.Y., 97, 99. Longmeadow, Ms., 123-4, 
181,254,580. Longneuil, ^N»., 328. Long- 
wood, Que., 331. Lookout, Wyo., 478. Lo- 
niin,0.,595. L' Original, ^«tf., 328. Lor- 
raine, ^r., 480. *Lo8 Angeles, Cal., 789. 
Loughboro, Eng., 539. Louisbux^, C. B., 
289. *LotiisTiUe, Ky., 31, 33, 51, 225, 
23r-7, 486, 501, 525-6, 530, 590, 595, 597, 
A28, 783. Loup, Fr., 545. Louvain, Fr., 
699. Lovell, Me., 577. Lovelock's, Nev., 
476, 480. *LoweU, Ms., 112, 378, 500, 508, 
517, 597. 660, 76S. Lower Lachine, Que., 
328. Lowestaft, Eng:, 539. Lubec, Me., 
264-70, 279, 516, 573, 610, 765. Lucan, Oni., 
312, 314. Lucindale, S. A us., 560. Luck" 
now, Ont., 315, 332. Ludlow, Vt., 579. 
Lunenburg, M 5*. , 288. Lonenlnirg, Vt. , 
577. *Luray, Va., 244, 346-51, 381-2. Luth- 
field, A^. Z., 56S. Lutton, Eng^., 537. Lyme, 
Ct., 131, 792. Lynehbiirg,Va.,346. Lynd- 
httrst, N. J., 166. Lynn, Eng., 537-8, 557. 
Lynn, Ms., loi, 516, 573, 597, 631, 768. 
Lynn, C7i«/., 326. Lyons, />., 698. L>"on8, 
III., 479. 'Lyons, Kan., 6a8. *Lyons, N. 
Y., 77a. 

McCainsville, N, J., 163, 207. McCbok, 
Neb., 501. *MoOonneUslnirg, Pa., 485. 
'Maehias, Me., 270-4, 279, 575, 592. Ma- 
chiasport. Me., 257, 273-4, 279. 573- Mcln- 
tyre's Comers, Oni., 332. McKinstryville, 
N. Y., 193. McUinnTille, Or., 788. •Mar 
oomb. III., 787. ^Macon, Ga., 782. M6- 
Veytown, Pa., 244. Madison, Ct., 132, 
523. *Madison, Ind., 595, 786. Madison, 
N. H., 577. Madison, N. J., 30, 163, 174, 
777. Madison, N. Y., 772. Madison, C, 
479. *Madison, Va.. 348. Madrid, .S>., 
70a Madrone, Cal., 490, 492- Magnolia, 
Ky., 230-1. Mahwah, N. J., 169. Maider>- 
head, Eng., 567, 792. Maidstone, En^., 
646. Mainx, Ger., 552. Maitland, N. S., 
283. Maitland, Om/., 326. Maketoke, 
A^. Z., 568. Maiden, Ms., 29, zor, 768. 
Maiden Bridge, N. Y., 208. Malmesbury, 
yicf., 560. Malvern, Eng., 645. Malvern, 
OfU., 116. Malvern, Pa., 3S9. Mamaxo- 
neok, N. Y., 247. Manassas Gap, Va., 34S. 
Manchester, Eng., 468, 535, 539, 550, 642, 
645-7, 683, 688, 792. Manchester, Ms., 113. 
Manchester, Me., 627. Manchester, Mo., 
3», 52s. 52S. *Manehe8ter, N. H., 500, 
575-6, 766. Manhasset (L. I.), N. Y., 151. 
Manhattanville, N. Y., 32. Mannheim, 
Grr.,552. Mannsville, Pa.,335. Manotick, 
Oh/., 327. Mansfield, Ms., 107, 109, 768. 
•Mansfield, O., 7S5. Mansfield, Pa., 
779. Mantes, ^r. , 480. Maple wood, N. H., 
577. Marblehead, Ms., 112, 281, 515, 768. 
Marcellns, N. Y., 20S, 479- Marcy, N. Y., 
210. Margate, Eug., 599^ •Marietta, 
O., 595. Marietta, Pa., 244- Mariner*s 
Harbor (S. I.), N. Y., 772. Marion, N. J.. 
82, 168, 582. Marion, Pa., 495. Markdale, 
(?«/., 3 16. Markham, N. Y., 223. Mark- 
ham, Omf., 316. Market-Deeping, Efig., 
539, 541. Marlboro, Ms., 514. Marlboro, 
N. Y,, 172. Marlboro, Vt., 579. Marlen- 
hsim, Ger., 481. Marlow, Que., 574. 
Marlton, N. J., 39a Marmande, Fr., 552. 
Marseilles, Fr., 698. •Marshall, Mich., 
334,785. •Marshall, Minn., 787. •Mar- 
Shalltown, la., 787. Marshfield, Ms., 113. 
Martlnsbiirg, N. Y., 201. •MarMnsburg, 
W. Va., 242, 244. 300. 303, 344-5. 349, S«8, 
495-8, 590, 782. Martinsville, N. Y., 317. 
Marulam, AT. S. W., 564-6. •Marywille, 
Kan., 485. Marysville, Viet., 560. Mask- 
inonge. Que., 575. Ma Bi Jllon, O., 487, soi. 



feS* 6«7^ 785- Masterton, A^. Z.. 568^ 
Mataae, Qme., 339. Matlin, Utah, 477- 
Mauituck (L. I.), N. Y., 150, isa, 155- M«t- 
toon, lU., 489. ^ICaneh Chunk, Pa., aao, 
»99» 34a, 5301 779. Mayfieid, CaL, 493- 
Mayence, G^., 545- *MaytVlUe, Ky., 30, 
P. 39» a33-5. SO't 590- *M«yvUla, N. Y., 
ao6, aaj, 48S, 587. Maainan, J?«»., 571. 
•MtedvlUe, Pa., 779- Meaford, Ont„ 316. 
Keehaalctlrari^, Pa.,779. Mechanicsville, 
Md, 376. BCaehftiiiesvlUe, N. Y., 190, 
i9t. MaobuilcsTiUe, Pa., 341. *MedU, 
Pa., 390. Medina, Kan., 485- Medlnft, 
N. Y., 217, aaa. •Medlnft, O., 501* 785- 
Medina, Otd., zzz. Hodford, Ms., 516, 
768. Mdningen, Gtr.^ ssa. Melboonie, 
Oirf., 331. Melbourne, Viet,^ 559-66, 570, 
6sa, 654, 695-6, 706, 793. Me]petaa, Cal., 
490. Mdton Mowbray, Eng.^ 547. *BCam- 
pUt, Tenn., 6a8, 633, 654, 670, 783. Mend- 
ham, N. J., 173- Mendota, IlL, 479- 
MmnVimiMW, Wis., 787. Meningie, ^. 
ilM., 56a Menio Park, Cal., 49s. Mentor, 
O., 785. nCaroer, Pa., 779. Merchant- 
ville, N. J., 390. BCerldan, Ct., n, 38, 31, 
no, 128, i33-5f »37-8f «49. «9»» a5o»» 377» 
510, 5S1, 610, 769. Meredith, ViU,, 559. 
MerioB Square, Pa., 389. Merioneth, Eng.^ 
645. Kaniek, Ms., 768. Merrick (L. I.), 
N. Y., 153. Merrimac, Ma., 768. Merritt- 
rilk, N. J., 171. Merv, /?«t., 57a Meshed, 
Ptr.f 570-1. Meshoppeo, Pa., 3a, 319. 
Metcalfe, Oni. , 327. Metegban, N. S. , 383-4. 
Metocben, N. J., 167, 377. Metz, (;#r., 
S99- Mexico, Mex.^ 790W Mexico, Pa., 
244. Meyendale, Pa., 244. Mianus, Ct., 
248. *Middlelniry, Vt., 197, 578-9. Mid- 
dle Fmge, N. J., 170. MIddleport, N. 
v., 217. Middleport, Pa., 34a. Middlesex, 
Vl, 578. •Middletown, Ct., 769. Mld- 
dtetoira, Ind., 236. Middletown, la., 484* 
48s, 486. Middletown, N. Y., 198, 340, 
498. 587. 77*- Middletown, O.. 785. 
VUUletown, Pa., 345. 3S(t 496. Middle- 
toira,.R. 1., 108, 581. Middle^ine, M. J., 
rfa, Midway, Va., 349, 495. MifiKn, Pa., 
S44, 498- Milan, //., 55a, 793. Mlltord, 
Ct, 110, 134, 13S, 140, 143, 349. Milford, 
Eh, 546. Milford, Ms., 768. Milford, 
N. H., 579, 766. vMUford, Pa., 164. 198. 
^» SS7. 779- MiUbank, Oni., 335* MHl- 
brae, Cal., 492^. Millbrldge, Me., 374. 
Mimmm, N. J., 16a, 164, i73> <7S* Mill- 

btny, Ms., ro9, 768. MiD City, Nev., 476^ 
MUl Creek, Pa., 38^ MiUerflbnrff, Ky., 
333. MUler't Falls, Ms., 768. Miller's 
Station, Ind., 479. Millerstown, Pa., 385. 
MillenviUe, Pa., 779. MiUerton. N. Y., 
188. Mill Grove, N. Y., 217. Millhaven, 
Ont.y 325. MUltown, Me., 366. MiU Vil- 
lage, N. S., 393. MillYiUe, Ms., 109. 
MUlTllle, N. J., 390. 520, 777. Millwood, 
Pa., 494. Milton, Ms., 39, 102, 517, 768. 
MUton, N. H., 577. Mihon, N. Y., 172. 
Milton, Vt., 500. Milton Falls, N. H., 577. 
Milton Lower Falk, Ms., 58, 106, 109. •Mil- 
wankee, Wis., 259. 487, 501, 5«9, 5*4, 595, 
628, 643, 787 Mine La Motto, Mo., 787. 
Mineola (L. I.), N. Y., 151, 153. •Minne- 
apolis. Minn., 324, 53©, 595» 6a8, 787. 
Miramarc, Aust.t 553. Mirfield, £m^., 79a. 
Mishawaka, Ind., 479. Mitchell, Otd,, 
ao4, 3»3, 3M, 3«7, 3*4, S3a- Mittagong, 
N. S. H^.t 561, 564-6. Mittineague, Ms., 
lao, 133-3. *MdUle, Ala., a. Moline, 
in., 479. 4891 7*7. Monclon, N. B., 598. 
Monmouth, Eng., 539. •Moomoath, IlL, 
787. *Monmoutii, Or., 78^. Mono Cen- 
ter, Oni., 316. Monroe, N. J.« 163. Mon^ 
roeville, O., 488. Monson, Me., 574. 
Montauk (L. I.), N. Y., 155. Montelair, 
N. J., 160-2, 167, 777. Monterey, CaL, 49o> 
492,494. Monterey, Ms., 488. Monterey, 
Pa., 385. •Montgomery, Ala., 610, 637, 
670, 707> 783- Montgomery, N. Y., 198. 
MdntioeUo, N. Y., 510. Monticeilo, Va., 
351. Montinagny, Que., 328. Montowese, 
Ct., 133. >49- •Montpelier, Vt., 500, 
578. Montpellier, Fr., 481, 699. Montreal, 
One., 18s, 187, 293, 326-8, 330-1, 333, 500, 
S^, 575» 578, 59*» 598, 634-5, 646, 669, 790. 
•Montrote, Pa., 594, 779. Montville, Me., 
574- Monument, CoL, 477- Moolap, ^at/., 
559. Moonambel, Viei., 566. Mooree- 
town, N. J., 177.8, 3901 Sa«» 5a»i 777- 
Mooresrille, Ind., 235. Mooresville, Pa., 
343. Moose River Plantation, Me., 574. 
Morecambe, Bug., 645. Morehouseville, 
N. Y., 211. Moretown, Vt., 578. Morges, 
SwitM., 545. Morpeth, Om(., 310, 315. 
Morris, Ct., 142. MoRlaania, N. Y., 96. 
•Monlttown, N. J., 30, 84, 163-4, 173, «75i 
333, 5o», 610, 777. Mortlake, Eng., 646, 
793. Mortlake, Far^., 55941. Moscow, la., 
479. Moscow, Eta., 79s. Mosholu, N. Y., 
78. Mott Haven, N. Y., 73. Moontaln 


Ytow, GaL, 49*- Mountain View, N. J., 
165, i69-7<x Ml Carbon, Pa., 34a. Mt. Car- 
mel, Ct, 134-5, a49i 486, 581. *Ht. G«r- 
ooel, III, 486, 787. Mt. Crawfonl, Va., 
346. Mt. Dewrt, Me., 130, 274.7, 279, aSt, 
511*13, 515, 573. Mt Eden, Cal., 493. Ml 
Eden, Ky., 336, Mt. Ephraim, N. J., 390, 
Saa. Ml Forest, (?«/., 316. Mt. Gambler, 
Vid,, 560. Ml Hermon, N. J., 164. Mt. 
HoUy, N. J., 777. ML Hope, N. J., 164. 
Ml Hope, Ont., 332. Mt. Jacksoa, Va., 
346,348, 3Sa-3- Mt. Joy, Pa., 496. Mt. 
KSftko, N. v., 76, 187. Mt. MorrU, N. V., 
58, 213. Mt. Pleannt, Pa., 339, 779. Mt. 
Pttlatkl, lU., 485. Ml Sl Vincent, N. Y., 
78, 80. Ml Salem, OtU.^ 331. ML Sidney, 
Va., 346, J5i^ 486. Ml Stewart, P, E. /., 
290-1. Ml Uniacke, AT. S., 287. Mt. 
y«mon, N. Y., 79, 138, 583, 77a. Mt. 
Yenum, O., 501, 785. Ml Vemon, Ofit.t 
3 1 7. Ml Vemon, Va., 376. Ml Washing- 
ton, Ky., 236. Much Wenlock, Eh^., 792. 
MulUca Hill, N. J., 390. Mumford, N. Y., 
222. Mundarloo, A^. S. IV., 564. Munich, 
Gcr., 481, 651, 697. Murdiison, j^ic/., 56a. 
Murphy's Comers, Oni., 33a. Murray, 
N. Y., 222. Muatapha Pasha, Tur., 48a. 
Myerttown, Pa., 343, 610, 779. 

Nagasaki, /iit^., 57a. Nancy, Fr.y 139, 480, 
545. Nanuet, N. Y., 586. *Napa, Cal., 49a 
Napanee, Ont.^ 319-22, 324-5» S<^' Napar- 
vllle. 111., 479. Napier, AT. Z., 568. Naples, 
/'•, 5S«-a, •<»• •Napoleon, O., 479- Nar- 
racoorte, Vict., 560. nVaahna, N. H., 128, 
i37» S«>» 507-8, 575. 627, 6431 766. •Nash- 
ville, Tenn., 231, 352, 500, 595, 597, 783- 
Nauaa, N. Y., 479- Natlck, Ms., m-ia, 
114, ao8. Natural Bridge, Va., 348-51, 525, 
610, 782. Nansataek, Cl, 141, 582. Na- 
venby, ^»i^r-» 539- Navoo, C7j»/., 332. Kaiap 
reth. Pa., 779. Needham, Ms., 29, 33, 768. 
Neenah, Wis., 787. Negannee, Mich., 785. 
Nenagh, Ire., 546. Nevis, N. Y., 196. ♦New 
Albany, Ind., 235, 486, 595. New Albion, 
N. v., 223. New Almaden, Cal, 789. New- 
ark, Eh^., 539-41. •Newark, N. J., 29-33, 
S(-3i 55* 58, 82, 84, 121, 156, 159-60, i62-4> 
166-70, 172, 174-5, 177, 207, 220, 317, 37a, 
387*8, 501, 509-10, 583-4, 587-91 6io, 632, 654, 
669, 711-12, 777. *Newark, O., 785. New 
Baden, lU.. 485. New Brighton (S. I.), N. Y., 
32, 156. NewBiitaia, Cl, za8, 134, 136-8, 
t4a, »45. U9. «5o, 377. S8i-», 770. •Now 

Bnmswlek, N. J., 167, 172, 34a. 377. 499. 
777- Newburg, Ind., 237. •Newbnrgli, 
N. v., 74, lai, 146, 171, 194, 197, 340, 498, 
582, 610, 702, 772. Newbury, £/^., s^. 
•Newbnryport, Ms., 101-2, 512, 518. New 
Castk, Ala., 783. Newcastle, CaL. 476. 
Newcastle, Del, 52a. Newcastle, £ng., 
599, 642, 644, 646-7. •New Castle, Ind., S36, 
786. Newcastle, Oni.^ 319-M, 325- •New 
Castle, Pa., 779. Newcastle-on-Tyne, ^Kip., 
554. 646, 687-8, 79a. New ConeoiHA, O., 245, 
485. New Dorp (S. I.), N. Y., 158. N«w- 
fieU, N. J., 522. Newfoundland, N. J. , 6ie, 
777. New Hartford, Ct., 143-5- •New 
Haven, Cl, 12, 27, 30-3, 50, 54, 61, 99, 113, 

127-8, 132-6, 138-40, 14a, 144-5. «48-9, «5>. 
171, 246, 249-50, 377-8, 391. 394, 398-9. 401, 
404, 435. 438, 464-5. 5o». 5«o-««. 532-3, 58i-a. 
993, 627, 643, 722, 770. Newbaven, Enf., 

480. New Haven, Ky., 229, 234. New 
Holland, Pa., 486. New Hurfey, N. Y., 
19S. Newington, Cl, 136-7, 250. New Leb- 
anon, N. Y., 488. New Lenox, Ms., 14S. 
*New London, Cl, 3a, 85, 129-31, 14$, 
148, 150, 153, 581, 593, 597, 610. New 
Longbach, Atttt., 481. Newmarket, Emf., 
539. Newmarket, Md., 377. Newmar- 
ket, Oni., 316, 789. New Market, Va., 
244, 346-8, 35». 381-3, 388, 495. 498. New 
MUford. CL, 142, 582, 77a NewMilford, 
Pa., 341. •New Orleans, La., a, 140, joo, 
sot, 527, 595, 597. 628, 654, 670, 783. New 
Oxford, Pa., 351, 486, 495. New Palti, N. 
Y., 198. New Philadelphia, Pa., 34a. New 
Plymouth, N. Z., 568-9. Newport, Del.. 
3?2. •Newport, Ky., 590, 784. NewiKnrt, 
N. H., 500. Newport, Pa., 496. •New- 
port, R. I., 12, 24, 28, 3r-3, 37, to8, 150, 516, 
523, 526, 581, 615-6, 625, 800. Newport 
News, Va., 595. Newportville, Pa., 377. 
New Preston, Ct., 77a New SoehfiUe, 
N. Y., 91, 138, 247, 627, 772. Newry, Eng.^ 
792. New Sarum, Oni.^ 331. New Tacoma, 
Wash., 788. •Newton, la., 479- Newton, 
Ms., 31, 185, 517, 530. 631, 768. •Newton. 
N. J., 777. Newton Comers, N. Y., 211. 
Newton Lower Falls, Ms., iii, 114. New- 
tonvfne, Ms., 631. Newtonville, Ont.^ 319, 
325. Newtown, Cl, 151, 58a. Newtown (L. 
L), N. Y., 58, 90. Newtown, Pa., 345. New 
Utrecht (L. L), N. Y., 90. NensaU, 5rrw., 

481. •New York City, N. Y., a, ii^ la, 
a5-6, 29. 3«-3. 38, 4a, 46-7, 5«, 53-4,64-6, 83. 



M. 87-9», 94-7f 99. «<»» »o5. «<»9i "a-3. 
laS, 13a, jjS, 150^, 166, 168, 171, 177, 183, 
1S7. i8>90, 193, 197-3, ao7, 109, 134, 438, 24*, 
346, 249, a3», «S«. 264, 275, a79» »«8i *96, 
998, 305, 308, 312, 3JO, 323, 331, 345, 350, 
353-6, 363-70, 37«» 374, 377-«i 384. 3881 39», 
399,402-4, 407, 427-38, 448-54, 458^, 464-6, 
469. 47a, 474, 4S1, 487, 494, 499-50', S04, 5'Of 
5». 524, 569-70. 572i 582-8, 592-4, 597, 610-11, 
615.20, 625.% 643, 654-7, 659, 663, 667, 672, 
678,630, 63;, 700, 706, 708, 71T-2, 728, 730, 
733, 772-5. 779- New York Mills, N. Y., 

336. Nezmely, //'f(ii,,48i. Niagara Falls, 
N. Y., v., 12, a8, 31, 50, 52, 55, 199, 202-4, 
214.216, 225, 232, 293, 296, 315, 317, 323-5, 
331, 333, 3S2, 4S8, 500-1, 582, 586, 593, 610, 
775. Niantic, Ct, 130. Nicetown, Pa.,377. 
Nfles, N. Y., 223. Nllas, O., 594, 785. 
Niacb, Strv., 481-2. Ni»hapQor, /Vr., 571. 
Nissouri, Ont.^ 332. Noank, Ct., 770. 
Nobksboro, N.Y., 211. •Nobletville, Ind., 
fas. 786. Norfolk, Ct., 143-4, 700. Nor- 
ftik, Va., 352, 782. Normandy, Ky., 236. 
Norman's Cross, Eng., 532, 539, 541, 553.4. 
*NorrlBtown, Pa., 389, 779. N. Adams, 
^'•i 193-4, 500, 700. N. AdeLiide, S. Aus,., 
5^ 793. N. Amherst, Ms., 120. North- 
uipion, Eng.^ 539, 792. 'Northampton, 

Ms., 3», »M, 118-21, 127, 183, 191,324, 610, 
768. N. Aodover, Ms., 768. N. Anson, 
Me-i 574. N. Becket, Ms., lai. N. Bend, 
Neb., 478. N. Bbndford, Ms., 121, ao8. 
Hofthboro, Ms., 29, 51, 103, m, 113-4, 
117, 514- Northbridge, Ms., 109. N. Cam- 
Wdge, Ms., 103. N. Canaan, Ct., 143. N. 
Collins, N. Y., 223. N. Conway, N. H., 
$76-7. N. Czeek, N. Y., 21 1. N. Dighton, 
R. I., 581. N. Bast, Md., 782. N. East, 
^•, 3>3- N. Bast, Pa., 50, 205^, 371. N. 
Easton, Ms,, 581. Northficld, Ct., 142. 
Horthfield, Ms., 517. Northfidd, N. J., 
163,175. Northfleld, Vt., 578. N. Fork, 
Ky..a33. N. Fork, Va., 382. N. Hadley, 
Ms., 579. N. Hatfield, Ms., 31, 119, 182-3. 
H. Haven. Ct., 133.5. N. Hoosick, N. Y., 
193. N. Lisbon, N. H., 576. N. London, 
^H* 5J4, 543- N. Otseljc, N. Y., 337. N. 
Petersbuijr, N. Y., 193. N. Pitcher, N. Y., 

337. N. Platte, Neb., 478, 489. North- 
Port(L. I.), N. Y., 151. 158. N. Pownal, 
Vl, 193. N. F^ndol|>h, Vt., 578. N. 
SbicUs, Eng.f 645-6, 792. N. Turner, Me., 
S74. N. Vallejo, CaL, 49>- Northville, 

N. Y., Z55, ail. N. Walpole, Ms., 107. 
N. Walsham, Eng., 646. N. Weare, N, 
H., 500. N. Wilbraham, Ms., no, 117. 
Norwalk, Ct., 13?, 143, 248, 657. •Nor- 
walk, O., 48S, 785. Norway, Me., 574. 
Norway, Ont., 319. •Norwich, Ct., 129-30, 
5*)3» 770- Norwich, Eng.^ 538-9, 683. Nor- 
wich, N. Y., 151, 336. Norwich, O., 245. 
Norwich, Ont.^ 332. Norwood, Ms., f07, 
376. Norwood. N. Y., 775. Norval, Ont.^ 
318.19. Notre Dame du Portage, Qh*.^ 329- 

30. Nottingham, Eng,, 539, 553, 646-7. 
Nukhab, Ptr., 571. Nnnda, N. Y., 214. 
Nyack, N. Y., 30, 32, 51, 75, 80, 198, 586-7. 

Oakfield, N. Y., 222. Oak Hall, Ky., 
233. Oakham, .f#rf., 539. •Oakland. Cal., 
475, 49O1 492-3, 789. Oakland, Ind., 485. 
•Oakland, Md., 487. Oakland. N. J., 170. 
Oakvills, Ct., 142. Oamaru, N. Z., 794. 
Oberkirch, C^r., 481. Oberlin. O., 501, 785. 
Ockham, Eng., 547. Oconomowoc, Wis., 
5or. •Ogallala, Neb., 478, 489. •Ogden, 
Utah, 475, 480, 788. Ogdensburg, N. Y., 
48, 296, 298, 303, 317, 326, 333, 582, 594. 
Ohinemutu, N. Z., 567. Ojata, Dak., 788. 
Okehampton, Eug.^ 536, 554. Old Ham- 
burg, Ky., 236. Old Lyme, Ct., 131. Old 
Orchard Beach, Me., 575. Olean, N. Y., 
208,222-3, 775. Olmstedville, N. Y.,211. 
•Omaha, Neb., 475, 47S, 480, 489, 628, 788. 
Onehunga, iV. Z., 568. Oneida, N. Y., 28, 

31, 201-2, 20S, 212, 220, 336, 479. Opem- 
gasse, ..4m«/.,645. Ophir, Cal., 476. Oporto, 
Port., 599. Opunake, N. Z., 569. Oramel, 
N. Y., 217. Oran, N. Y., 336. Orange, 

Ind., 786. Orange, Ms., Z14, 579, 768. 
Orange, N. J., 27, 29, 30, 33, 5i-:2,82, 161-4, 
174-5, 207, 220, 509, 584, 5S8-9, 610, 678, 711, 
777. 'Orange, Va., 348. Orange Valley, 
N. J., 777. Orangeville, Ont., 316. Oran- 
more, /r#., 645. Oregon, Pa., 387. Orillia, 
Ont.^ 316. Oriskany, N. Y., aoi, 210. •Or- 
lando, Flor.^ 783. Orleans, Fr., 558. Oro- 
no, Me.,515. Orrville.O., 785. Orwell,<9«/., 
331. Orwigsburg, Pa., 342, 49S, 779. Oshawa, 
OiU.^ 319. •Oshkosh, Wis., 787. *Oska- 
loosa, la., 643, 787. Osprey, OhL, 318. 
•Ossipec, N. H., 575-7. Ostend, Bel.^ 522, 
551, 599. Oswego, 111., 479. •Oswego, 

Kan., 788. 'Oswego, N. Y., 219, 333, 775. 
Otego, N. Y., 775. Otis, Ms., 121, 479. 
OtisviUe, N. Y., 340. 'Ottawa, Kan., 788. 
Ottawa, Ont.f 31a, 327-3', 635, 789. •Otter- 



▼ille, Mo., 435-6. *Ottiimwa, la., 673, 
787. Overbrook, Pa., 389-90. Ovid, Mich., 
687, 785. *Owen8boro, Ky., 590, 784. 
OwoiSO, Mich., 785. Oxford, Eng.y 533, 
539. 5M. 646. Oxford, Md., 486, 593, 782. 
Oxford, Pa., 386, 388. Oysler Bay (L. I.), 
N. Y., 151. 

*Padnoah, Ky., 590, 784. Pahiatau, N. 
i?., 56S. Paignton, Eng.^ 551, 792. Painted 
Post, N. Y., 218. Paisley, Oni., 315. Pa- 
lenviUe, N. Y., 188, 498. Palermo, Mc., 
574. Paliside, Nev., 477. Palmer, Ms., 
no, 117, 128, 181, 20S, 479, 76S. Palmyra, 
Ind., 235. Palmyra, Pa., 343. Palo Alto, 
Cal., 49»- Panama, N. Y., 587. •Paoli, 
Ind., 235, 237- Paol>» Pa-. 378, 388-9. Par- 
adise, Pa., 496-7. Paradise, R. I., 108. 
Paradox, N. Y., an. Paris, <Fr., 2, 99, 280, 
403, 4o5. 426, 448, 458-9. 480, 545, 551. 558, 
586,611,645,651, 698-9, 792. *Pari8, 111., 
485-6. •Paris, Ky., 233.5, •PaariB, Me., 
5«5» 765. Paris, 0«/., 317, 325, 332. Park- 
rille (L. I.), N. Y., 775. Parrsboro*, A^. 5"., 
289. Parsippany, N. J., 163, 207. PassalC, 
N. J., 169, 777. Patchogue (L. I.), N. Y., 
»So. »53-5. •Paterson, N. J., 30, 33, 84, 164- 
70, 216, 588-9, 777. Pau, Fr.y 558, 651, 699, 
792. Paulus Hook, N. J., 168. Pavilion, 
N. Y., 222. Pawling, N. Y., 188. Paw- 
taclcet, R. I., 106-9, 580-1, 628, 769. Pax- 
ton, Ms., 579. Peconic, N. Y., 775. Pe- 
cowsic, Ms., 580. Peekflkill, N. Y., 194, 
627, 775. Pekin, Chi., 570. Pekin, N. Y., 
222. Pelham, N. Y., 247. Pelton's Cor- 
ners, Ont., 33a. Pemberton, N. J., 777. 
Penfield, Pa., 610, 779. Penacook, N. H., 
577. Pennington, N. J., 173. Penrith, 
Eng.^ 536. Penryn, Eng.^ 646. Penshurst, 
Vict., 563. Penzance, Eng., 554-5. 645. 
*Peoria, III., 489, 501, 787. Peppercll, Ms., 
128. Pi^re Marquette, Ont., 595. Perry, 
Me., 261. Perry, N. Y., 222. Perrysburg, 
N. Y.,223. Perryaburg, 0.,479. Perrys- 
ville. Pa., 372-3, 377. Perryville, Kan., 485- 
6. Perryville, Ky., 226-9. Perryville, N. 
Y., i88. Perth, Ont., 327. Perth, Scot., 536, 
556. Perth, Tas., 563. Perth Amboy, N. 
J-. «5S, 158, 377. 777- Peru, Ms., 121. Pes- 
cara, //. ,552. Pcsth , Hun. ,551. Petaluma, 
Cal,, 490, 789. Peterboro, Rng., 538-9, 541, 
557-8. Peterboro, Ont., 598. Petcrsburjr, N. 
v., 193. PetersburK,c?»/.,3i7. •Petersburg, 
Va., 351. Petersfield, Eng., 544. Peters- 

thai, G*r.t 481. Peterwardein, Slav., 481. 
Pfalzbing, Gtr. , 4S0. Philadelphia, N. Y., 
334. ^Philadelphia, Pa., 29-33, 158, 164, 
i68, 172-3, 175, X77-S, aao, 237, 242,244-5. 
258, 303, 351, 354, 372. 377-8. 388-9, 406, 
426, 434, 453-4, 457, 485, 487. 494. 496-5<». 
504, 521-2, 526, 530, 574, 577-8, 58'f 584-5. 
589, 593-4, 596, 605, 610, 61S-30, 624-8, 643, 
652, 654-5, 660, 674, 677-9, 686, 779-So. Phil- 
ippopolis, Roum.^ 4S1. Philipsburg, Pa., 
341. Phlllipsburg, N. J., 173. Pbcenida, 
N. Y., 49S. Pickering, Oni., 317. Picton, 
N. S. IV., 565-6. Pictou, N. 6"., 289, 592. 
Piedmont, O., 487. Piedmont, Wyo., 477. 
Piermont, N. Y., 80-1, 586-7. Pierrepont 
Manor, N. Y., 335. Pigeon Cove, Ms., 512. 
Pike, N. Y., 216. Pike, Omt., 322. Pim- 
lico, Eng., 645. •Pine Bluff, Ark., 610, 
783. Pine Bluff, Wyo., 478. Pine Brook, 
N. J., 84, 162-70, 207. Pine Grove, Pa., 
498. Pinneo, Col., 501. Pinos Altos, N. 
Mex., 788. Piperaville, Pa., 497. •Pipe- 
stone, Minn., 787. Pirot, Serv., 481. Pisa, 
//., 552. Pitman Grove, N. J., 390. •Pitts- 
burg, Pa., 485. 495-6, 530. 587. 594-6, 
672, 780. •Pittflfield, Ms., iia, X2I, 126, 
144, 148, 170, 188, 197, 500, 700, 768. Pitts- 
field, N. H., 577. Pittsford. Vt.. 579. 
PtttSton, Pa., 30, 32, 341. Pittstown, 
N. Y., 193, 219, 220. Plainfield, N. J., 
164, 172, 177, 388, 777. Plalnville, Ct., 
137, 142, 145, 250, 582. Piano, HI., 479. 
Plantagenet, Que., 328. Planisville, Ct., 
250, 770. •Plattsburg. N. Y., x86, an, 
775. •Plattsmouth, Neb., 478. Pleasant 
Comers, Pa., 34a. Pleasant Gap, Mo., 787. 
Pleasant Hill, Ky., 226. Pleasant Valley, 
N. J., 32. Pleasant Valley, Pa., 341. 
Pleasantville, N. Y., 96, 187. •Plum Creek, 
Neb. , 478, 480, 489. Plymouth, Eng. , 645-6. 
•Plymouth, Ind., 786. •Plymouth, Ms., 
112. •Plymouth, N. H., 576.7. " Podunk." 
607. Point Claire, Que., 328. Point Fort- 
une, Qne., 328. Point Levi, Q*u., 330, 575. 
Point of Bocks, Md., 51, 241-2. Pomp, 
ton, N. J., 30, 164-70. Pont-a-Mousson,/V., 
139. Pontoise, Fr., 558. Pontook Falls, 
Me., 576. Pontypridd, Eng., 683, 79a. 
Poplar Hill, ^«/., 332. Poplar Springs, 
Md., 349. Portage, N. Y., 30, 214-7, 222, 
5S2. Port Arthur, bnt., 789. Port BurweD, 
Qnt.y 331. Port Carbon, Pa., 342. Port 
Chester, N. Y., 54, 73, 75. 79. 9«, «39f a47-», 



sS2, 587. Port CItDton, Pa., 299, 343. Port 
Deposit, Md., 372-3, 377. Port Dickinson, 
N. Y., 338. Port Dover, OfU.^ 33a. Port 
Kliiabeih, ^. A/., 696. Port Elgin, Out., 
304, 3»5. 33»p 340, 789- Port Hastings, N. S., 
289. Port Hawkesbury, JV. S., 289-90. 
Fori Henry, N. Y., 211, 775. Port Hope, 
Out. , 3 19, 324-5, 530. ♦Port Huron, Mich. , 
J3a> 595. Port Jefferson (L. I.), N. Y., 
15a. Port Jerrls, N. Y., 28, 31, 46, 189, 
198, 207, 219, 296, 298-9, 305, 307-8, 340,378, 
497. 5<»» 5'o» 582, 587, 610, 77$. Port Kent, 
N. Y., 211. Portland, Ky., 235. •Port- 
land, Me., Ill, 257-60, 268, 273-5, 279-80, 
503. 5»5-6. 573-5. 592» 594, 59*, 610, 616, 627, 
766. Portlsnd, N. Y., 206, 775. Port- 
land, Or., 492, 788. Portland, Pa., 164. 
Port Latour, JV. S., 288. Port Mulgrave, 
.v. S., 289. Port Republic, Va., 347-8. 
Port mclmiond (S. I.), N. Y., 84, 156-S. 
Port Rush, /re.f 499. Port Ryerse, Oni., 
332. Portsmouth, Eng-., 539, 547, 636, 645, 
647, 792. *Portsmoutb, N. H., 12, 29, 31, 
33, IOI-2, 112, 19a, 334, 500, 506-7, 512, 516, 
575. 577i 6>o» 7^- •Portsmouth, O., 785. 
Povtsmooth, Ow/., 325. Port Stanley, 6>m/., 
33f. Portyille, N. Y., 223. Potter, Neb., 
478. Potteraville, N. Y.,2ii. PottStown. 
Pa-, 351, 484, 486, 578, 780. •Pottsvllle, 
Pa., 296, 342, 498, 780. *PoughkeepBie, 
N. Y., 29, 31-3, 99. "X, .M»-3. M6-7, i7»-2, 
188, 194-S, 404. 498, 5»o. 5»3. 582, 775. 
Powell's Gap, Va., 348. Prague, Attst., 
55*. 697- Preea, Ertg:, 536. Prescott, ^«/., 
296-8, 301, 3»7, 326-7. Pressburg, /fun,f 
481, 55t. Preston, Erig^., 536-7, 556, 645. 
•Preston, Minn., 787. Preston, O., 785. 
Preston, On/., 317. Priest's, Cal., 491. 
•Princeton, I]L, 479, 4S9, 787. •Prince- 
ton, Ky., 784. Princeton, Ms., 610, 768. 
Prlnoeton, N. J., 377, 434, 777. Princeton, 
Om/., 324. Proctor, Vt., 579. Profile House, 
N. H., 577. Promontory, Utah, 477. 
Prompton, Pa., 339. Prospect, Ber., 361. 
Prospect, Ind., 235. Prospect, N. Y., 
2iow Provins, Er., 480. Providence, Ind., 
235. •ProTidence, R. I., 12, 85, 104-9,378, 
5»3. 58'. 593. 597. 607, 628, 643, 769. Pugh- 
town. Pa., 496. Puhoi, y. Z., 567. Pn- 
ImU, Pa., 335- Punxsutawney. Pa., 6x0, 
7«o. Purcellville, Va., 497- Putney, Vt., 
»9. 5». "9» «82-3, 191. 
Quakertown, N. J., 522. Quarry, Utah, 

477. Quebec, Qtu. , 293, 297-8, 327-33, 574-5, 
578, 59a. 598. Queenscliffe, Kit/,, 560. 
QueensvilJe, Oni., 316. Quincy, Ms., 106, 
109. Quogve (L. I.), N. Y., 154-5. 

Rahway, N. J., 158, 167, 172, 678, 778. 
Ramseys, N. J., 169., Rainsgnle, Eng-., 599. 
Randall Bridge Corner, N. Y., 22.1. Ran- 
dolph, N. Y., 215, 223, 775. *Bawlins. 
Wyo., 475, 478, 480. *RaTenna. O., 785. 
Bavenswood (L. 1.), N. Y., 91. Raymer- 
town, N. Y., 193. Ray*s Hill, Pa., 485. 
Beading, Ms., 768. Beading. Pa., 242, 
296, 299, 302-3, 342-3, 387, 389, 522, 578, 596, 
780. Readville, Ms., 27. Reamstown, Pa., 
387. Bed Baak^ N. J., 778. Redburn, 
^V-. 539- Redding, Ct, 138. Redditch, 
Efigr.i 646, 79a. Redfern, N. S. W., ^65, 
696, 793. Bed Hook, N. Y., 196. «Bed- 
wood City, Cal., 492. Reilly's Crossing, 
^w.,328. Beistertown, Md.,377. Relay, 
Md., 377. *Beno, Nev., 476-7, 492. Rens- 
selaer Falls, N. v., 334. Beynoldsburg, 
O., 245, 485. Rezonviile, ^r., 599. Bbine- 
beck, N. Y., 29, 194-6, 198, 378, 495. 
Riccly, EKg., 539. Blchmond, Ind., 488, 
786. *Blchmond (S. I.), N. Y.. 157. Rich- 
mond, OnL, 327, 332. Bichmond, Va., 228, 
347, 35>-2, 593, 628, 7S2. Richmond Hill(L. 
1.). N. Y., 775. Richviile, N. Y., 334- 
Ridgefield, Ct., 138. Ridgefield, N. J., 30, 
84, 165-6, 168, 778. Ridpevi'le, Md., 377. 
Ridgeville, O., 479. *Bidgway, Pa., 780. 
Rigaud, ^f<^., 328. Rimini, //., 552. Rim- 
ouski, Que.f 329-30. Ripley, Eng.f 537. 
Ripton, Vt., 578. Riverdale, 111., 519. Riv- 
erdale, N. Y., 80. Blverhead(L. I.). N. Y., 
31, 150, 152-5, 775- Riversdale, (?«/., 315. 
Biverside, Cal., 491, 789. Riverside, N. 
Y., 211. Riverside, Va., 350. Riverton, 
Ct., 144, 770. Riviire Quelle, Qiu-^ 328, 
330, Roach's Point, <?«/., 316. «Bouioke, 
Va., 350. Robbin&ton, Me., 261-3, 265-7, 
274, 279. Robesonia, Pa., 343. Bochester, 
N. H., 577-8, 610, 766. •Bochester, N. Y., 
12, 198, 202, 215-7, 222, 320, 333.488, 501, 
594, 775- Bockaway, N. J., 163, 170, 207. 
Rock Creek, Wyo., 478. Rock Enon 
Springs, Va., 495-7. Bockford, 111., 787. 
Rock Glen, N. Y., 222. •Bock Island, 111., 
475, 478-9. 489. 595- 'Bockland, Me., 279, 
5»5. 574- Rockland Lake, N. Y., 775. Rock- 
lin, Cal., 476. Bock Springs, Wyo., 477, 
643, 788. Bockville, Ct, 77a Rockville, 



Vau, 347, 376. Roggen, Col., 501. Rome, 
lU., 4S3. Rome, //., a, 427, 55a, 600, Tbo, 
713. Borne, N. Y., 201, 20S, 210-11, 336, 
594i 776. Romford, Eng.^ 792. 'KoillXiey, 
W. Va., 345. Bondout, N. Y., 340. Ron- 
nebuTg, Gtr,^ 552. Roselle, N. J., 158, 778. 
RoMville, N. J.p 509. Boslyn (L. I.), N. 
Y., 91, 151. Rothenburg, C^r., 481. Rother- 
ham, N. Z., 569. Rothrocksville, Pa., 387. 
Rotterdam, Ht^.^ 553, 599. Rouen, /V., 
480, 69S. Round Lake, N. Y., 378. Round 
Plains, Ont.^ 332. Rowley, Ms., 29, 31, 
ioi«2. Roxbury, Ct., 142. Boxbnry, Ms., 
109, 114, 76S. Royalton, Vt., 578^. Roy- 
erville, Md., 4S6. Royston, Eng.^ 541. 
Ruggles, O., 785. *BiishTiU6, Ind., 62S, 
786. Rushworth, K/r/., 566. Russell, Ms., 
121, aoS. BuBSi&vllle, Ind., 786. Ruthcr. 
ford, N. J., 166-7, 778. •Batland. Vi., u, 
a9» 3»f »»9. »84-5. i9'-a. «94» 578-9. 594, 610, 
627, 766. Rutledge, N. Y., 223. Ryckman*s 
Corners, C?*/., 332. Bye, N. Y., 247. Rye 
Beach, N. H., 512. Rye Patch, Nev., 476. 
Saalfeld, Gtr., 552. Sabbath Day Point, 
N. Y., 186, 211. Sackville, N. B., 790W 
•8mo, Me., 575. '"Saonunento, Cal., 476, 
491. Sadieville, Ky., 31, 51, 226. *8age> 
Tille, N. Y., 211. St. Albans, Eng.^ 539, 
553. St. Albans. Vt., 500, 766. St. Andre, 
Q^'i 330. St. Andrews, A^. A, 274. St. 
Andrew's, N. Y., 196. St. Anne's, Que,^ 
326-8, 330, 575. St. Armand, Que., 500. St. 
Catherine's, Ont.^ 324, 326, 634-5. •St. 
Charles, Mo., 525. St. Charles, Oni.^ 322. 
•St ClairsviUe, O., 345. 'St. Cloud, 
Minn., 610, 787. St. Cloud, N. J., 163.4. St. 
. Come, Que.^ 575. St. Fabian, Que.^ 329. St. 
Flavie, Que.^ 329. St. Foy, Qtte.^ 330. 
St. Gallen, Swiiz.y 792. St. George, Que.^ 
575. St. George's, Ber., 353, 355. 359, 362, 
610, 790. St. Gothard, Swifs., 552. St. 
Helena, Cal., 490. St. Helens, Eng., 558. 
St. Heliers, Eng., 792. St. Henry, (7«r., 
575. St. Ives, Ettg., 539. St. Jean Port, 
Que., 330. St. John, AT, A, 274, 282, 293, 
635. 790- St. John, OfU.t 3«2» 3M- 'St. 
Johns, Mich., 785. St. Johns, Que., 500. 
•St Johnsbury, Vt., 1S4, 192. St Johns- 
ville, N. Y., 200, 2o3. St. Joseph, Que., 
574-5. •St Joseph, Mo., 595, 7S7. St. 
Joseph's, Ont.f 327-8. St. Lambert, Que., 
SCO. St LouSs, Mich., 785. St Louis, 
Mo., a43f 3a«-3» 43*1 48S-7» 5o«, S^S, 5*9. 

S75. 594-5. 6*7-8, 63a, 643, 652, 654, 671-2, 
677. 679, 787. St Luce, Que., 329. St 
Maiy'S, Kan., 788. Sl Mary's, Omt., 331-s, 
789. Sl. Matthew's, Ky., 236. St. Neotts, 
Eng, 539, 541. •St Paul, Minn., 486^, 
595. 627, 7S8. St. Peters, C. B., 289. Sl 
Peters, P. iE. /., 291. St. Petersburg, Xms., 
2. St. Pierre, Que., 330. St. ILoch, Que., 
330. Sl Simon, Que., 329. St. Stephen, 
//. B., 265-6. St. Thomas, Ofti,, 301, 312, 
3«4-5. 3*9. 3301. 634-5, 783. St Valier. 
Que., 330. Salamanca, N. Y., 206, 223. 
•Salem, Ind., 235. *Salem, Ms., 16, 29, 
31, 101-2, 112, 512, 529, 673, 768. •Salenu 
N. J., 390, 52«. 'Salem, N. Y., 193. 
•Salem, Or., 78S. •Salem. Va., 34S. Sal- 
Cord, E//g., 543, 792. •Salinas, Cal., 490, 
494. Salisbury, Ct, 147, 700. Salisbury, 
Eng.f 539, 645. Salmon Falls, N. H., 766. 
Salmon River, AT. S., 283. Salop, Eng., 
645. *Salt Lake City, Utah, 788. Salt- 
ville, N. Y., 222. Samarkand, Eta., 570W 
Sandhurst, Tir/., 562-3, 566, 612, 793. *San- 
dusky.O., 595. Sandwich, 111, 479. Sandy 
Creek, N. Y., 335- Sandy HiU. N.Y., 189. 
Sandy Sprinf , Md., 376. San Felipe, CaL, 
489. •San Francisco, Cal., 2, 48, 204, 397. 

43 «. 473-5, 480, 489, 492-3. 499. 57©, 57». 595. 

625, 627-8, 632, 661, 672, 789. *San Jose, 
Cal., 489-94. 789- San Juan, Cal., 490. 
San Lorenzo, Cal., 490, 493. •San Lnls 
Obispo, Cal., 7S9.' San Pablo, Cal., 475. 
•San Bafael, Cal., 490- Santa Clara, Cal., 
491-2. *Santa Cruz, Cal., 490-2. •Santa 
Fe, N. Mex., 594. •Santa Boca, Cal., 490. 
Santee Agency, Neb., 78S. Saratoga, N. 
Y., 186, 192-3, 197-8, 20S, 211, 378, 497, 5^3, 
578, 627, 776. Sardinia, N. Y., 222. Saren- 
grad, Slav., 481. Saniia, On^., 332. Sas- 
seraw, /nd., 572. Saugatuck, Ct., 138-9. 
Saumur, ^r., 645. Saunders ville, Ms., 109. 
•Sayannah, Ga., 292, 592. Savemc, Ger., 
481. Savin Rock,Ct., 138, 400, 40a. Saybrook, 
Ct, 13a. Sayre, Pa,, 780. Sayville (L. I.), 
N. Y., 12, 51, 54, 150, 152-3. Scarboro*, 
Eng., 792. Scarboro', Oni., 316. Schells- 
burg. Pa., 485. •Schenectady, N. Y., 9, 
12, 28, 32-3, 199-202, 2o3, 479, 48S, 610, 776^ 
Schenevua, N. Y., 776. Schodack, N. Y., 
29, 51, 190, 342, 510, 552. Schuylersville, N. 
Y., 74, 186, 190, 192, 246, 610, 776. Sehnyl- 
kill Haven, Pa., 498. Scio, N. Y., ny 
Sciota, Pa., 341. Scotch Plains, N. J., 17a. 



Scotland, Ont.^ 332. Scott Haven, Pa., 78a 
*8enntQn, Pa., 340, 501, 610, 780. Sea- 
bright, N. J., 778. Seabrook, N. H., 103. 
Sealorth, OnL^ 3i3f 3>5t 324» 333- Seal 
Harbor, Me., 276-7. Seaisport, Me., 574. 
•Baaittte. Wash., 78S. SebriDgville, Ont., 
317. Seiitan, Ptr.y 571. Selkirk, ScoL^ 556^ 
Semendria, Serv.,, 43 1. Semon's Cap, Va., 
348. Senate, N. Y., 208,21a. Seneca Falls, 
N. Y., 2o3, 213, 776. Sennen, Eng.^ 555. 
Serra Capriola, //., 55a. Setauket (L. l.)» 
N. Y., 15s. Sevenoaks, Eng.^ 645. *Sew- 
ard. Neb., 485-6. Sewlckley, Pa., 780. 
Beymonr, Cl, 140. Seymour, Vict.^ 564. 
Sezanne, Fr., 480. Shady Side, N. J., 81, 
83. Shaftesbury, Emg., 536. Shakertt, Ct., 
aSt. Shakers, Ky., 226-7. Shakers, N. Y., 
197. Shakespeare, OtU.^ 316-7. Shanghai, 
d/', 572. Shap Fells, Eng.^ 536. Sharing- 
toD, Qh».^ 500. Sharon, Ct., 143, 147. 
Sharon, Ms., 27, to6, 109. Sharon, N. Y., 
21$. Sharon, Ont.^ 316. Sharon Springs, 
N. Y., 197, 378. Sharood, Per.^ 571. 
Sharpaburg, Md., 384. Sheakleyrille, 
Pa., 780. Shed's Comers, N.Y., 337. Shecr- 
nesswm-Sea, Eng.^ 645. Sheffield, Eng.^ 
S39tS57*792' Sheffield, 111., 479. Sheffield, 
Ms., 143-4, i47i 579i 700. Shefford, EHg.^ 
646. Shelburne, N. S., 288. Shelbume, 
Onf., 316. Shelby, N. Y.. 222. •Shelby- 
vUle, Ind., 786. •Shelbyyllle, Ky.. 232, 
S3^7> 527- Sheldon, 111., 787- Shellsburg, 
Pa-» 485. 497-3. Shepherdstown, w. Va., 
aa4, 384, 610,782. *Sheplierd8vllle, Ky. , 237. 
Slierbrooke, Que., 32S. Sheridan, N. Y., 
393. Shsrifabad, Per., 571. Sherman, Col., 
477. Sherman, N. Y., 587, 776. Sherman 
Center, N. Y. , 5S7. Shippensbiirg, Pa. , 344. 
ShoemakersviUe, Pa., 343. Shoreham, Vt., 
579. Short Hills, N. J,, 30, 162-3, »74. 
Shxeve, O., 785. Shrewsbury, Eng., 539, 
554,64a. Shrewsbury, Ms., no, 113, 117, 
aoS, 514. Shrewsbury, N. J., 778. 'Sidney, 
Neb., 478. 489. Sidney, ^. 5'., 289. •Sid- 
ney, O., 501, 78s. SUver Creek, N. Y., 
50, aoi-5, 322, 488, 610, 776. Silver Lake, 
N. Y., 323. Silver Spring, Md., 376. Sim- 
coe, Omt.f 315, 33i-a, 59^, 634-6, 655, 677, 
789. Smpach, Attsi,, 481. SlmpsonviUe, 
Ky., 332, 2x6, 485. Simsbury, Ct., 123, 125, 
14$. Sinelairville, N. Y., 223, 776. Sin- 
gac, N. J., 84, 165. Sing Sing, N. Y., 76, 
194. *Bloilx Ciiy* 1^1 787- Sivas, T$tr., 

483. Sittingbottme,i?Mf/-., 547, 793. Sixteea 
Acres, Ms., 124. •Skowhegan, Me., 373^, 
515. Sligo, Md.,349, 374, 376. SloaitbuTg, 
N. Y., i7». Smilhfiald, Eng., 539. Smith- 
field, Ky., 236. Smith's, Ber., 790. Smiths- 
boro, N. Y., 319. Smith's Creek, Cal., 49a 
Smith's Falls, Oh/., 327. Smith's Ferry, 
Ms., 31, 118-20, 126-7, 321, 579. Smith's 
Mills, N. Y., 223. Sraiihiown (L. I.), N. 
Y.,158. Smithville, Ky.,237. Smithville, 
N. J., 671, 778. Smithville, O., 245. 
Snakeshanks, Tas., 563. Snicker's Ferry, 
Va., 383. Snydersville, Pa., 341. Sofia, 
£m/., 481. •Solon, Me., 573-4, 610, 766. 
Somerset, Ber., 358, 361. Somerset, Eng., 
645, 646. •Somenet, Pa , 496. Somer- 
ville. Ma., 768. •Somerville, N. J., 164, 
>72, 377i 610, 733, 778. Somerville, Va., 
334. Sorel, Que., 3*8-9. Souris, M S., 29a 
S. Abington Station, Ms., 512-3, 76S. S. 
Amaua, la., 479- Southampton (L. I.), N. 
Y., 155. Southampton, Ofti., 315. *S. 
Bend, Ind., 479- S. Bethlehem, Pa., 780^ 
Southboro', Ms. , 1 14, 5 M. S. Boiton, Ma., 
768. Southbridge,Ms., 76S. S. Bridge water, 
7<M.,563. S. Canaan, Ct., Z43. S. Canton, 
Ms., 109. S. Chioago, 111., 519. S. Deer- 
field, Ms., 119, 182-3. S. Dover, N. Y., 582. 
S. Egremont, Ms., 14B, 700. Southfield, N. 
Y., 171. S. Framingham, Ms., 21, 103, m, 
128,258, 513, 575, 76S. S. Gardner, Ms., 
768. S. Hadley, Ms., 119-20. S. Hadley 
Falls, Ms., 120, 126, 580, 76S. Sonthington, 
Ct., 139, 25a S. Jersey, Pa., 390. S. Kil- 
vington, ^Mf., 792. S. Lee, Ms., 148. S. 
Lyme, Ct., 130. S. Meriden, Ct., 134. S. 
Mountain, Md., 349. S. New Market, N. 
H., 575. 766. S. Norfolk, Ct., 143. S. 
Norwalk, Ct., 138-9 S. Orange. N. J., 
160, 162, 509. S. Olselic, N. Y., 336-7. S. 
Oyster Bay (L. I.), N. Y., 150, 152, 154. S. 
Paris, Me., 574. S. Pitcher, N. Y., 337. 
S. Pbtte, Neb., 478. Sonthport, Ct., 138, 
139. S. Pownal, Vt., 193. S. Bayalton, 
Vt., 578. S. Sdtuate, Ms., 76S. Soutlisea, 
^"Sr-f 599- S. Vallejo, Cal., 491. S. Ver- 
non, Vt., 183. Southwell, Emg., 539. S. 
West Harbor, Me., 574. South wick, Ms., 
121, 123, 125, 144, 146, 579. S. Yarra, yicf., 
563, 794- Spanish Point, Ber., 35^, 361. 
Sparkill, N. Y., 80, 5«6-7. •Sparta, Wis., 
787. Speier, ^r.,552. Spencer, Ms., 103, 
no, 114, 768. Spencerport, N. Y., 317. 



Sperryville, Va., 35a, 379. Spezia, //., 552. 
Spiegeltown, N.Y., 193. Spofford*s Point, N. 
Y., 96. ^Springfield, 111., 486, 501, 524,610, 
787. Spriugfield, Ire.^ 546. ^Springfield, 
Ky., 229-30, 234- 'Springfield, Ms., 11-2, 
a6-33»42, 46, 58, 61, 103-4, log, 113-29, 138, 
M4-6, i49» »5». »7»-*. »79-83, i9«. i93-4» 196, 
208, 251-4, 259, 294-5, 3»«-3» 333. 353,371. 
376-7, 388, 391, 400, 404, 470. 488. 491. 493. 
500-X, 508, 510, 519, 523-5. 527, 547. 569. 
579, 580-2, 593, 597, 603, 605, 607, 610, 6x7, 
619, 627-8, 631-3, 654, 660-6, 672, 675, 677, 
679, 703, 706, 709-10, 712, 722, 768. Spring- 
field, N. J., 164. ^Springfield, O., 245, 
485, 4S8, 501, 627, 785. Springfield, Out., 318. 
Springfield, Vt., 766. SpringyiUe, N. 
Y., 157. Staatsburg, N. Y., 196. Stafford, 
-^V-, 539, 792- Stafford, N. Y., 222. Staf- 
fordville, Ont,, 332. Stamboul, Tarr., 482. 
Stamford, Eng.^ 539-41, 64^. Stamford, 
Ct., 48, 138-9, 248-9, 582, 610, 770. Stan- 
ford River, Eng.^ 792. Stanhope, N. J., 
51,163, 173, 207. Stannardsville, Va.,348. 
•Stanton, Ky., 590. Stapleton (L. I.), N. 
Y., 156. Stark Water, N. H., 576. 'Staun- 
ton, Va., 46, 48, 242, 296, 300, 305, 317, 335, 
345-5 », 376, 382-3, 3J>8, 495, 497, 5<», 6io, 782. 
Stawell, Vkt.y 561-2, 565-6, 696. Stayner, 
Ont.^ 316. Steelton, Pa., 244- Stemlcrs- 
ville, Pa., 341. 'SteubenviUe. O., 485. 
Stevenage, Eng.^ 541. Stiermark, Aust.^ 552. 
Stillwater, N. Y., 186, 190, 192, 610, 776. 
Stockbridge, Ms., 148, 510,700. Stockholm, 
Sxve.^ 700. Stockport, N. Y., 527-8, 776. 
•Stockton, Cal, 491-2- Stockton, Me., 
574. Stone, Eng.^ 4S0. Stoneham, Ms., 
769. Stoneham, Oni.^ 330. Stonehenge, 
Eng.^ 539. Stone House, Nev., 476. Ston- 
ington, Ct., 85, 593. Stony Creek, Ct., 132. 
Stony Kill, N. Y., 194. Stony Point, OfU., 
332. Stouffville, Ont.^ 316. Slow, Ms., 
579. Stowe, Vt., 579. Stoyestown, Pa., 
485. Strafford, N, H., 577. Strasburg, Ger., 
481, 545. 552, <J97- Strasburg, Mo., 485- 
Strasburg, Va., 244, 345, 347-8, 35o-«, 
6to, 782. Stratford, Ct., 37, 138, 142, 249. 
Stratford, ^ifjf., 645. Stratford, A^. Z., 569. 
Stratford, OiU., 315, 3«7. 324, 332, 635. 
Strathallan, Ont.^ 317. Strathburn, Ont., 331. 
Strathroy, Ont. , 3 19, 332. Streclsville, On/. , 
318. StrenburB,^i«/.,48i. *Stroud8burg, 
Pa., 296, 299, 302, 34 1- Stuart, la., 478. 

Stayvesant Landing, N. Y., 190, 192- 

Suckasunny, N. J., 164. Suez, Eg., 571. 
Suffero, N. Y., 169, 171, 192, 198, 582, 5^*7, 
610, 776. Suffleld, Ct., 122-J, 125, 146, 770. 
Suisun, Cal., 475, 491. Summerdale, N. Y., 
587. Summerside, P. E. /., 290. Summit, 
Cal., 476. Summit, N. J., 669, 778. Sum- 
mit, Pa., 245. Summit Hill, Pa.. 323- 
Summit Point, W. Va., 7S2. Sunderland, 
Eng., 545, 645. Sunderland, Ms., 579. 
Surbiion, Eng., 551. Susquehanna, Pa.. 
219, 296, 338, 780. Sutton, Onf.f 316^ 
Swainsville, N. Y., 222. Swansea, Eng., 
645-6. Swedesboro, N. J., 39a Swift 
Run Gap, Va., 348. *Sycamore, ill., 787- 
Sydenham, Efig., 405, 792. Sydney, N. S. 
f^-t 5^», 562, 564-6, 570, 652, 696, 793. 
Syossei(L. I.), N. Y., 151,530- •Syracnse, 

N. Y., 12, 30, 32-3, 44, 50-1, 201-2, 20S, 212, 

219, 298, 300, 305-6, 335-6, 343, 346, 479. 4S8, 
577, 594, 776. Szeksard, //«<«., 481. 

Tabbas, Per., 571. Tabreez, Per., 482- 
Ta-ho, C*/., 572. Tain, Sea/., 645. Ta- 
kapo, AT. Z., 568. Talbot, Ont., 332. Tal- 
hot, l^ici., 560. Tamaqua, Pa., 299, 302, 
342, 497-8. Tam worth, N. H., 576. Tan- 
nersville, N. Y., 188, 498. Tappan, N. Y., 
30, 80. Tara, On/., 315. Tarawcra, JV. Z., 
567. Tarcutta, Vict, 561. Tariff ville, Ct., 
145. Tarrytown, N. Y., 27-32, 50-3, 75-80, 
91, 9S-9, 139, 171, 187, 193-5, »98, 258, 275. 
281, 343, 404, 5S2, 587, 610, 776. Tarsus, 
Per., 482. Tartar Bazardjik, Roum., 481. 
Tashkent, Rus., 570. Tatham, Ms., 252. 
Taunton, Eng., 554. *Taimton, Ms., la, 
28, 31, 33, io6, 109, 511,769. Tavistock, 
Oni., 315-7. Taylor, N. Y., 336. rTayloTB- 
ville, Ky., 236-7. TaylorsviUe, Pa., 341. 
Taylorworth, Oni., 327. Teconia, Nev., 477. 
Tecumseh, Ont., 301, 311. Teheran, Per., 
473-4, 480, 482-3, 570-1, 792. Telegraph, 
Mo., 525. Telford, Pa., 388-9. Temple- 
ton, Ms., 579, 769. Tempsford, Eng., 541. 
Tenafly, N. J., 80. Terang, Vici., 559-61, 
563. Terrace, Utah, 477- 'Terre Haato, 
Ind., 486-7, 595, 786, Terry ville, Ct., 142. 
Thamesford, Oni., 324, 332. Thamesville, 
Ont., 331-2. Thomaston, Ct., 142, 770. 
^Thomasvllle, Ga., 782. Thompson, Pa., 
339. Thompeonville, Ct., 32-3, 122, 125, 
181, Thorndale, Ont., 332. Thomdike, 
Ms., 104, 117, r8i. Thomhill, Oni., 316. 
Thornton, N. H., 577. Thorold, Oni., 789. 
Thrapston, Eng., 540. Three Rivars, Ms., 



^9^ 104, Z17. Three Rivers, Qite.t 500. 
Throgg's Neck, N. Y., 74, 246. Thurso, 
0ml., saS. Thurao, Scot, 555. Ticon- 
deroga, N. Y., 29, 51, 185-6, an, 578. 
Tiffin, la., 479, 488. Tiflis, Rms., 571. 
Ttgnish, N. S., 29a Tilghraau's Isbnd, 
Md.. 7S2. Tioga, Pa., 594. Tioga Center, 
N. Y., 219. TisUlwa, lU., 489. Tltui- 
Yille, Pa., 610, 781. Tiverton, Ofti.t 315. 
Tiverton, R. I., 108. TivoH, N. Y., 51a 
Togus, Me., 573. Tolchester, Md., 589. 
Toledo, O., 479» 488, 501, 595, 785. •Tol- 
land, Ct., 149. Tolland, Ms., 144. Tomah, 
Wis., 787. Tompkinsvaie (S. I.), N. Y., 32, 
iss> 157- Tomsk, ^Mf., 570. Tonawaada, 
N. Y.. 52, 203, 215, 217. *Topeka. Kan., 
591, 7S8. Torbet-i-Haiderie, /'rr., 571. 
Toronto, Oh^., 300-f, 305, 315-30, 324-6, 331, 
333. 530, 593. 59S. 633-5, 669, 789. Torxing- 
ton, Ct., 144. TottenvUle (S. I.), N. Y., 
»55. »58, 377. •Towaada, Pa., ii, 30, 32, 
219, 610, 78 1. *Towion, Md., 377. Tra- 
cadte, A\ 5"., 2S9. Tralec, /re., 695, 792. 
Tremont, N. Y., 73, 583. Trenton, 111., 
48S. •Trenton, N. J., 99, 164, i73» 5"i 
610, 77S. Trenton, N. Y., 210, 582. Trcn- 
too, 0«/., 319, 321, 323- Trenton Falls, N. 
Y., 30, 33, 210, 212, 334i 336. Trexlertown, 
Pa., 3B7. Triangle, N. Y., 498. Trieste, 
Atut.t 552. TrochsviUe, Pa., 341. Trois 
Pistoles, ^MT., 329-30. Trouville, Fr., 480. 
♦Troj, N. Y., 85, 190.1, 208, 310, 378, 594, 
776. Trockee, Cal.. 476. Tmro, N. 5"., 
*^» 53^^ 790* Tubby Hook, N. Y., 72, 80. 
Tubingen, Ger., 481. Tuckahoe, N. Y., 79, 
776. Tuckertown, Ber.^ 360. •TuCSOn, 
Ariz., 789. Turners, N. Y., 587. Turner'! 
Falls, Ms., 183. Tuscarora, N. Y., 214. 
Tuscarora, Pa., 342. *Tu8kegee, Ala., 
783. Turin, //., 427, 55a, 700. Tuxedo, 
N. Y., 5S7. Tuxford, Eng^., 540. Twin 
Mountain House, N. H., 577. Two Bridges, 
N. J., 169. Tyngsboro, Ms., 508. 

Uddevalla, Stve., 59-), 792. Uhlersville, 
Pa., 497. 'ITklali, Cal., 490- Ulm, Ger., 
481. Umballa, /nd., 572. TTnadllla, N. 
Y., 49S. Underwood, Ont., 315. •Union, 
Mo., 486. Union, N. Y., 218. Union 
Forge, Pa., 49S. •UniontOWn, Pa., 245, 

496,610, 781. Unlonville, Ct., 145. Up- 
per B.irtlett, N. H., 576. Upper Hull, 
N. Z., 569. Upper Lachine, Que., 328. 
UT>p'r Lisle, N. Y., 337. Upper Montclair, 

N. J., 167. 778. Upper Red Hook, N. Y., 
196. Uppervllle, Va., 496. Upton, Ky., 
31, 23f. •Urbana, O., 501. Utica, Ind., 
235. *Utica, N. Y., 12, 32-3, 201-2, ao8-io, 
2t3, 220-1, 334, 336, 479, 488, 594, 610, 776. 
Utrecht, H0I., 645, 651, 708, 792. Ux- 
bridge, Ms., 109. 

Valatie. N. Y., 148. 197. Valley Creek, 
Pa., 389. Valley Station, Ky., 237. Valois, 
Que., 328. Vanceboro, Me., 596. •Van- 
dalla, 111., 595. Vandalia, O., 485. Van- 
derbik's La*nding (S. I.), N. Y., 32. Van 
Deusenville, Ms., 148. Van Homesville, 
N. v., 776. Varennes, Oni., 328. Vau- 
dreuil. Que., 328. Venaken, N, J., 172. 
Venice, //., 552. Ventimiglia, //., 600, 
Vercheres, Que., 328. Verdi, Nev., 476. 
Verdun, Fr., 599. Vernon, Ct., 576, 770. 
Verona, N. }., i6x, 164-5, ^^7> »75i *oi, 208. 
Verplank's Point, N. Y., 776. *YerBaille8, 
Ky-i 233, 236. Versailles, N. Y., 223. 
Vestal, N. Y., 218. •Vickrtnrg. Miss., 610, 
628, 783. Victor, la., 479. Vienna, ./4m/., 
406, 426, 481, 552, 55S, 651, 697. Vienna, 
N.J. ,164. Vienna, Va., 376. •Vincennes, 
Ind., 235, 505. Vineland, N. J., 390, 522. 
Vineyard Haven, Ms., 769. Violet Town, 
Vict., 564-6. Vitry le Francis, Fr., 480. 
Vittoria, Oni., 332. Voiron, Fr., 698. 
Volusia, N. Y., 587. 

•Wadena, Minn., 788. Wadsworth, 
Nev., 476. *Wahpeton, Dak., 788. Waiau, 
N. Z., 568-9. Waikari, N. Z., 568. Wai- 
pawa, A^. Z., 569. Wakefield, Ms., 112, 
575.769. Wake6eld, N. H., 577-8. Wal- 
den, N. Y., 198, 776. Walkerton, Oni., 
315. Wnllacetown, Out., 312, 314. Wal- 
lara, Vict., 564. Wallingford, Ct., 133-4, 
149, 581. Wallingford, Vt., 766. Wal- 
more, N. Y., 222. Walnut Grove, N. J., 
164. Walpole, Ms., 107, 113. Waltham, 
Ms., 29, 51, 103, 579, 769. Walton, Eng., 
599. Walton, Ky., 225. Wanaque, N. J., 
170. Wandsford, Eng., 539. Wandsworth 
Common, Eng., 792. Wanganui, N. Z., 
56S, 570. Wangaretla, Vict., 564-5. Wan- 
non Falls, Vict., 560, 563. Wappinger'B 
Falls, N. Y., 194-5, 776. Wardsville, Oni., 
331. Ware, Eng., 541. Ware, Ms., 29, 51, 
104, no, 1 13-4, 117, 181, 579. Warehouse 
Point, Ct., 580, 582, 559. Warren, Ms., 
104, no, 114, 117, i8r. •Warren, O., 785. 
Warren, R. I., 107-8, 323, 581, 769. War- 



reniburg, N. Y., an. ^Wairenton, Va., 
350. 35*f 374f 376» 610, 782. Warrington, 
Eng.t 480, 536. W.irrnambool, Vict.^ 559-61, 
563, 794. •Warsaw, N. Y., 221. Warwick, 
E*tS-, 53> Warwick, Ont.^ 332. •Wasll- 
ington, D. C, 22, 25, 28-9, 31, 33, 37. 5«, 
$S, 116, 173, 198, 241-2, 244, 2581 296, 3*31 
346-52. 370-4. 3 A 377-8. 382, 384. 388, 464, 
484,488,495.497. 499. 501, 5o8» 5«i. 5»3-5. 
5*3-4. 588, 59U 610, 652, 658, 617, 619,627-8, 
724t 733. 7S2. Washington, Mv. 121, r93. 
Washington, N. H., 575. Washington, 
N. J., 610, 778. Washington, O., 245. 
Washington, Pa., 245, 379, 496. 781. 
Washington Comers, Cal., 490, 493. Wash- 
ington Heights, 111., 388. Washington 
Heights, N. Y., 33, 5^3. Washington Hoi- 
low, N. Y., 510. Waterbory, Ct., 140, 142, 
582, 770. Waterbtiry, Vt., 766. Water- 
ford, /r*., 546. Waterford, N. Y., 190-2. 
Waterloo, N. J., 163, 173. •Waterloo, N. 
Y., 207-8, 212. Waterloo, OnL, 316. Wa- 
terloo, Pa., 379. Watersford, Ind., 237. 
Walcrtown, Ct., 142. •Watertown. N. Y., 
aoi, 210, 594, 776. Watertown, Ont.^ 333, 
336. Watertown, Pa., 334. 'Watertown, 
Wis., 787. Waterville, Ct., 582. Water- 
▼llle, Kan., 485. Waterville, Me., 573-4, 
610,766. Watford, Ont., 332. 'Watkins, 
N. Y., 216, 498, 776. Watsessing, N. J., 
160. Watsonville, Cal., 490, 492. Wa- 
verly, N.Y.,30, 32, 50, 51, 21S-9. Waverly, 
Pa., 3 » I. • • Way back ville, " 607. Wayland, 
Ms., 769. Wayland, N. Y., 216. Waymart, 
Pa., 340. Wayne, Me., 574. Wayne, N. J., 
165. Wayne, Pa., 30, 389. Waynesboro, 
Pa., 385, 388, 610, 781. Waynesboro, Va., 

350-1. •Waynesburg.Pa. ,610,781. Weedon, 
Eng., 553, 557- Weedsport, N. Y., 776. 
Weehawken, N. J., 81, 85. Weirs, N. H., 
576-7. Weissport, Pa.,341, 781. Welcome, 
OiU., 319. Wellesley, Ms., 29, 103,113, 769. 
Wellingore, Eng.^ 539, Wellington, Eng., 
536, 556. Wellington, A^. Z., 566, 568-70. 660, 
794. Wellington, S. Aus., 5<5o-i. Wells. 
Nev., 477. •Wellsboro, Pa., 610, 781. 
Wellsburg, N. Y., 2 18. Wells River, Neb., 
489. Wells River, Vt., 576-8. Welktown, 
N. Y.,2ii. WellsviUe, N. Y., 217,223. 
Wclwyn, Eng.f 541, 792. Wendover, Ofit., 
328. Wenham, Ms., 101. Wcrefordsburg, 
Pa., 496. Werribee, K/f/., 559. Wesley, 
N. Y., 223. W. Ansonia, Ct., 770. W. 

Avon, N.Y., 213. W. Baden, Ind., 235. W. 
Becket, Ms., 121, 20S. W. Bethel, Vt., 578. 
W. Bloomfield, N. Y., 20S, 212. West- 
boro, Ms., iio-i, 128,610, 769. W. Brat- 
tleboro, Vt., 182. W. BriniBeld, Ms., 26, 31, 
110, ir7, 128, aoS. Westbrook, Ct., 132. 
W. Brook6eld, Ms., 29, ro4, 117. W. Ches- 
ter, N. Y., 99, 246. 'W. Chester, Pa., 
244. 388-9, 781, W. Qaremont, N. H., 576. 
W. Cornwall, Ct., 147. W. Cornwall, Vt., 
578. W. Coventry, N. Y., 497-8. West- 
erly, R. I., 769. W. Farms, N. Y., 95. 
Westfield, Ms., I20-6, 144, 149, 192, 488, 
527, 769. Westfield, N. J., 172, 588, 778. 
Westfield. N. Y., 50, 55, 58, 205-6, 222, 
313, 4S8. W. Gardner, Ms., 500. W. 
Granby, Ct., 145. W. Hampton (L. I.), N. 
Y., 154. W. Hartford, Ct, 137. W. Ha- 
ven, Ct., 12S, 134, 138, 140, 149, 249. w. 
Henniker, N. H., 508. W. Livingston, N. 
J., 163. W. Long Branch. N. J., 778. 
W. Milan, N. H., 576. •Westminster, 
Md., 377, 782. Westminster, Ms., 579. 
Westminster, Oh/., 331. Westminster, Vt., 
184. Westmoreland, N. Y., 776. W. Nas- 
sau, N. Y., 208. W. New Brighton (S. I.), 
N. Y., 157,776. W. Newton, Ms., 113. 
W.Newton, Pa., 781. Weston, Ct., 139. 
Weston, EMg., 694. W. Orange, N. J., 610, 
778. W. Ossipee, N. H., 576. W. Phll»- 
delphia. Pa., 781. W. Point, Ga., 594, 
6io, 783. W. Point, Ind., 237. W. Pc^t, 
N. Y., 194, 198. Westport, Ct., 138-9, 248-9. 
W. Randolph, Vt., 57S, 6ro, 627, 651, 672, 
766. W. Roxbury, Ms., 107. W. Butland, 
Vt., 184. W. Saugerties, N. Y., 188. W. 
Springfield, Ms., 29, 30, 42, 51, 58, no, 117, 
120, 122-3, "5-7, 179, 181, 183, 194, 252-3, 
581, 769. W. Springfield, Pa., 205-6, 4791 
W. Stockbridge, Ms., 148, 208. W. Suffield, 
Ct., 146. W. Sydney, M S. IV., 793. W. 
Troy, N. Y., 192. Westville, Ct., 140, 
394, 582. Westville, N. S., 79a W. Wai^ 
ren, Ms., no. 114. W. Woodstock, N. Y., 
336-7. W. Worthington, Ms., 121. Wey- 
mouth, Eng.y 685, 689. Weymonth, Ms., 
769. Weymouth, A^. 5"., 283-4, ft^ 
Whately, Ms., 119. Whcatley, Ont., 31a 
Wheaton. Md., 376. Wheatville, N. Y.. 
222. •Wheeling. W. Va., 242-3, 245, 487-8, 
50*. 595. 610, 628, 782. Whippany, N. J., 
163-4. Whitby, Oiti.y 319-20, 7S9. Whit- 
church, Eng., 536. Whitefield, N. H., 



S77- Whitefaatn, N.Y., it, 29, 119, (84, 186, 
191-1,776. VVhiceHorse, Pa., 390. *Wlilte 
PUtaiS, N. Y., 71, 74-6, 138-9. 5S3, 702. 
White Blver Jnootioii, Vt., 500, 576, 578. 
Wtaiteatown, N. Y., 201, 310, 213. White 

Sulphur Springs, N. Y., 192, 217. White 
Snlphnr Springe, W. Va., 351, 382. Whit- 
ing, Me., 271. Wliitllieville, Ms., 769. 
Whitney'B Point, N. Y., 337. Whltuey- 
ville, Ct., 135. Whitneyville, Me., 272. 
Whitdesea, Eng^ 539. •Wiehita, Kan., 
fSS. Wichita Falle. Tex., 783. Wick, 
Scci., 536. 555. 556, 645. Wickliffe, Vict., 
563. Wicklow, Otu., 321. Wilbraham, 
Ms., 114. *Wilkeel>ane, Pa., 30, 32, 220, 
340.1, 781. Willetl, N. Y., 337. Willey 
House. N.H., 576.7. William's Iiridge,N.Y., 
96w Wiiliamshurg, Ms., 119, 12 r. Williatns- 
buis (U I.), N. Y., 91, 153. WiUiamsford, 
0«/., 316. WilUamsport, Md., 29, 5 1, 238.9, 

24*, 244. 303. 344, 347. 349. 384,38s, 495.497-8. 

•WilUamsport, Pa., 781. •WillUmstown, 
Ky., 31, 235-^. WiUiamstown, Ms., 112, 
"<i 579* 610, 700, 769. Williamstown, 
N. J., 52a. WiUlametown, N. Y., 192.3. 
WUIiamstown, Vt., 578. Williamsville. Ont., 
325. Willimansett, Ms., 124-5, $80. ••Wil- 
Umantic, CL, 129, 770. Willow Grove, Pa., 
497. Willow Island, Neb., 478. •Wil- 
mington, Del., 244. 37a. 377. 388, 390. 497, 
Saa, 5S9, 62S, 781. •Wilmington, N. C, 
78a. Wilmington, Vt., 579. Wilmot Cen- 
ter, (7«/., 317. Wihnot Comers, N. Y., 210. 
WUaonville, Ind., 336. Wilion, Ct., 138. 
Wincanton, Eng.^ 539. Winchelsea, Out.., 
332. •Winchester, Ky., 4S5. Winches- 
tar, N. H., 579. •Winchester, Va., 47, 
«44, 345-8, 350. 388, 49 1-^, 578. 7S2. Wind- 
ham, Ct., 148. Windham, N. Y., 187. 
Windsor, Ct., 145, 251. Windsor, N. S., 
259,286,289,393, 610, 790. Windsor, N. 
Y., 204. Windsor, On/., 296, 310-11, 314, 
533. Windsor, Vt., 576, 578-9. Windsor 
I«0CkB. Ct., 122, 125, 145, x8o, 251, 377, 5S0, 
582. Winfield (L. I), N. Y, 90. Wing- 
ham, Onf., 332. •Winnemncea, Ncv.,476. 
Winnipeg, Mmm., 4S7, 635, 790. •Winona, 

Minn., 487, 788. Winona, Wis., 787. 
Winslow, //. S., 291. Winsted, Ct., 143-4. 
•Winterset, la., 787. Winthrop, Me., 
574. Wisbeach, Eng.^ 538, 557. Witham, 
^igT', 792- Wobnzn, Ms., 769. Wodonga, 
F^k:/., 565.6. Wolfville, iV. ^.,285. Woll- 
aston, Eng.f 5401 Wolverhampton, Etrg., 
539, 5(6, 645. Womelsdorf, Pa., 343. 
Woodbridge,Cal. ,491. Woadbridge,Ct., 149. 
Woodhridge, N. J., 15S, 166. •Woodbury, 
N. J., 390. 5". Woodbury (L. I.), N. Y.. 
1 50- 1. Woodford,t7M/.,3t6. •NVoodland.Cal., 
491, 7S9. Woodstock, N. H., 577. Wood- 
stock, Ox/., 315.7, 324, 33». 634-5, 789. 
*Woodstock,Va., 244, 346, 383. 388,498. 78a. 
•Woodstock, Vt., 57f). Woodstown, N. J., 
390, 521-2, 778. WoodsTille, N. H., 578. 
WoodviUs, AT. Z., 5O9. Woonsooket, R. 
!•. 109, 581. Worcester, Eng., 539, 645. 
•Worcester, Ms., 12, 27. 29, 31, 51, 103, 
109-14,117. «a8-9, 208,258, 479,488,513.4, 
5»3. 576, 579, 594. 600, 607, 627, 680, 769. 
Worthiugton, Ky., 236. Worthington, Ms., 
121. Wray, Col., 50Z. Wremham, Ms., 
107. Wrexham, Eng., 539. Wrightsvills, 
Pa., 386. Wyalusing, Pa., 219. Wyanet, 
111., 479. Wyoming, 111., 787. Wyoming, 
N. J., 158, 163. Wyoming, Pa., 220, 781. 
Wysocking, Pa., 219. 

•Xenia, O., 501, 7S5. 

Yantic, Ct., 530, 583, 770. Yaphank 
(L. I.), N. Y., 29, 3», 33, 150-3. Yarmouth, 
E>^., C36. Yarmouth, Me., 660, 766. Yar- 
mouth, Ms., 592. Yarmouth, jV. S., 282-4,' 
286, 288, 293, 599, 790. Yarmouth, Oh^., 
331. Yarmouthville, Me., 766. Yass, 
A^. S, IK, 564.5. Yeovil, ^wj-,, 536,645. 
Yokohama, /a/., 572. Yonkers, N. Y., 26, 
39, 53. 58, 75-9, 81, 95. 98, 100, 1S7, 194, 197, 
376, 523, 583-4, 586, 610, 776. York, Eng., 
533. 544, 645-6, 792. •York, Pa., 242, 377. 
3%, 495. 497. 6to, 781. York Mills, On/., 316. 
Yorkshire, N. Y., 208, 223. *YorktOwn, 
Va., 23S. •Yorkville. 111., 479. •Youngs- 
town. O., 627, 785. Youngstown, Pa., 485. 

•Zanesville, O. , 245, 7S5. Zaribrod, Bui., 
4S1. Zurich, SwiiM., 552. 

" U.S.Official Hotel Directory for '86, or Hotel Red Book " (8vo, 708 pp., incl. 73 adv. pp. ; 
doth, $3 ; weight 3 lbs.), by the Hotel Pub. & Adv. Co., of 265 Broadway, N.Y., " gives a conv 
[dete and reliable list of hotels in the U. S. and Canada, large and small, leading and otherwise, 
and also summer and winter resorts. It likewise gives the names of r. r.'s and water routes, 
reaching or passing the town or city wherein the hotels arc located. " See hotel lists, pp. 609, 61 a. 




This alphabetical list of the States and 
Territories of the Union is given chiefly for 
the sake of showing their abbreviations. The 
geographical order in whidi the States are 
inserted in the " Directory of Wheelmen " 
(765-90niay be found on p. 734> also on p. 
XX ; and, in the latter case, the number of 
towns and of subscribers representing each 
State in the " Directory '* are likewise shown. 
On p. 617 maybe seen the League representa- 
tion of each State, June i, '84; and on p. 
618 the increase of the same, Jan. i and Sept. 
I, '86. P.^aS shows the League officers of 
State Divisions, Oct. 30, *86; and p. 631 
shows th • apportionment of States into " rac- 
ing districts of ihs A. C. U." Full indexes of 
the 13 States in which I have done the most 
touring ( Me. to Va. and Ky.) are pointed out 
by the star (*) ; and the General Index may be 
consulted for additional references to many 
of the other States. Numerals higher than 
764 refer to subscribers to this book : 

Ala., Alabama, 2, 352, 670, 783. Ariz., 
Arizona, 7S9. Ark., Arkansas, 352, 783. 
CaL, California, 2, 473-6, 489-941 5oo» 5'9i 
609, 661, 672, 789, 799. CoL, Colorado, 177, 
501, 7S8. Ct., Connecticut, •sSi, 769-70. 
Dak., Dakota, 177, 487, 788. Del., Dela- 
ware, •5S9, 781. D. C, District of Colum- 
bia, •590, 782. Fla., Florida, 177, 352, 597, 
783. Qi., Georgia, 177, 352, 500, 610, 782. 
Id., Idaho, 7S8. HI., Illinois, 31, 224, 244, 
258,478-80, 485-9. 5«9. 524-5. 658, 672,677, 
786-7, 799. IncL, Indiana, 31, 235-7, 479. 
486-8, 5x9, 785-6. la., Iowa, 478-80, 486-7, 
501, 672, 787. KaxL, Kansas, 99, 485-6, 500, 
788. Ky., Kentucky, 224-37, •590. 783-4- 
La., Louisiana, 2, 140, 500-1, 527, 595, 597, 
654. 670, 724, 783. Me., Maine, •573, 765-6. 
McL, Maryland, *5S9, 781-2. Ms., Massa- 
chusetts,*579,766-9. Micb., Michigan, 42, 99, 
177,210,296, 311, 323, 476, 490-2,609, 660, 
729, 7S5. Mixm., Minnesota, 487, 519, 530, 
57O1 787. Ml88., Mississippi, 352, 783. Mo., 
Missouri, 99, 322-3, 473, 485-7, 500, 524-S. 
671-2, 787. Mont., Montana, 454, 519, 788. 
Neb., Nebraska, 478-So, 484-6, 489, 501, 570, 
788. Nev., Nevada, 476-7. N. H., New 
Hampshire, •575, 766. N. J., New Jersey, 
•5SS, 776-8. N. Mex., New Mexico, 788. 
N. Y., New York, ^582, 770^. N. C, North 
Carolina, 54, 176, 551, 500, 782. 0., Ohio, 

28-3*, 39i 57, 99, 205, 234, 240, 24a, 245. 
47980, 485, 487, 500, 5o», 5»9, 594, 625, 660. 
677-8, 784-5. Or., Oregon, 492, 519, 788. 
Pa., Pennsylvania, ^589, 778-81. B, L, 
Rhode Island, *58i, 769. S. C, South Caro- 
lina, 54, 352, 782. TexUL, Tennessee, 176, 
352, 500, 670, 672, 7S3. Tex., Texas, 352, 
500, 783. Ut., Utah, 477. 52o» 75*8. Vt., 
Vermont, •578, 766. Va., Virginia, •590, 
783. Wash., Washington Territory, 455, 
519, 788. W. Va., West Virginia, 31, 4*. 
242, 245, 344, 352, 384, 486-7, 500, $90, 78a. 
Wis., Wisconsin, 177, 258, 487, 524, 787. 
Wy., Wyoming, 473, 475, 477, 479-8o, 489, 
570. 788. 


References higher than 764 are to subscrib- 
ers outside the U. S., the numbers of whom 
are also shown on p. xx. Details for sev- 
eral countries may be found in General Index : 
Acadia, 286. Afghanistan, 571. Angora, 
481-2. Asia, 480-3, 570-2, 792. Australia, 
558-70, 652, 695-6, 706, 793-4. Austria, 2J2, 
481, 558, 636-7, 792. Bavaria, 480-1. Bel- 
gium, 522, 546, 549. 599. 651, 699, 700. Ber- 
muda, 353-70. 592, 790. Brittany, 54a. Bul- 
garia, 48i. Canada, 265, 282-334, 598, 603, 
633-7. 669-70, 677, 789-90. Cape Breton, aSSw 
China, 312, 474-5, 477, 49«, 572. Croatia, 
481. Denmark, 636-7. Egypt, 453, 571. 
England, 403-6, 426, 444-50. 469-72, 53»-S8, 
598-9, 636-51, 654, 681-95, 790-2. France, 480, 
522, 530. 552, 557. 599.600, 628,636, 651,682, 
698-9, 792. Germany, 546, 552-3, 636-7, 651, 
697, 792. Holland, 522, 553, 599, 636-7, 651, 
700, 792. Hungary, 474, 481, 792. India, 
571-2. Ireland, 499, 546, 640, 652, 665, 6S2-3, 
688, 792. Italy, 530, 549, 551-2, 599, 600, 
687, 700, 792. Japan, 572, 792. Khorassan, 
570. Koordistan, 481, 483. Manitoba, 635, 
790. Mexico, 2, 600, 790. New Brunswidc, 
265, 33 «. 5»5, 790. New S.Wales, 564-5, 65a, 
793. N.Zealand, 566-9,653, 794. Normandy, 
480, 543. Norway, 549, 700. Nova Scotia, 
282-94, 331, 355, 364-6, 499, 592, 790. On- 
tario, 296-334, 598, 633-6, 789. Persia, 473, 
480-3, 570-1, 792. Prince Edward Island, 
290-2. Quebec, 327.30, 574-5, 592, 790. 
Queensland, 652, 793. Roumelia, 474, 4S1. 
Russia, 570-1, 687, 724. Saxony, 551-2. 
.Scotland, 545, 553-8, 645-6, 681-6, 695, 79a. 
Servin, 474,480-1. Slavonia,474, 481. South 
Africa, 696. South Australia, 560-1, 65a, 



7i». Spain, 549, 683, 700. Styria, 48*. 
Sweden, 549, 700, 792. Switzerland, 530, 532, 
54«. $49. 55»f 599, 637, 650, 79a. Tasmania, 
559. 5<»3-4, 652, 79*- Turkey, 481-2, 474. 57if. 
7«j2. Viaoria, 55S-66, 652, 706, 793-4. Wales, 
V^^ IY>* 533, 536, 539. 544, 546, 550, 790-2. 


Agawam, 122-3, 179, 252. Aminonoosuc,576- 
7. Amoor,57o. Androscoggin, 575-6. Arques, 
480. Avon, 289. Bear, 477. Beaver, 515. 
bigelow, 129. Blackberry, 143. Blacksione, 
io9b Blanche, 329. Brandy wine, 372, 3*8. 
Bnmz, 74, 75. Byram, 73. Cassadaga, 5S7. 
CajEcnovia, 214. Charles, 106, 514. Chestnut 
Ridge, 485. Chicopee, 110, 117, 129. Cole- 
brook, 144. Conemaugh, 496. Connecticut, 
11,32, 61, 117-28, 145, 172, 178-84, 191, >94i 
lyS, 251*4, 575-S2. Cornwallis, 285. Cow- 
pasture, 486. Croton, 76. Cumberland, 302, 
347. Danube, 481. Delaware, 28, 44, 163-4, 
172-3, 189, 198, 207, 299, 302, 340, 342, 
37a, 378, 390, 497, 5»2. 587- East (N. Y.), 
64, 86, 97-8, 5S3. Eden, 223. Eik, 479. 
Elkhart, 479. Elkhorn, 478. Farmington, 
137, 144-6, 5S1. Fenton,29. French, 129. 
Ganges, 572. Gatineau, 327. Genesee, 30, 
214-17. German, 173. Green, 230, 477* 
Hackcnsack, 82, 165-6, 168-9, 589. Har- 
lem, 25, 27, 64, 66, 68, 70, 72, 91, 95-8, 
247, 582-4. Hanid, 571. Hills, 490. Hills- 
boro, 290. Holyoke, 135. Hoosick, 193. 
Hop, 128. Housatonic, 1x2, 13S, 140, 143-4, 
147, 188, 700. Hudson, II, 44, 51, 64-91, 95, 
97, M«-3, «46, 148, 157, «64-6, 17^-98, 210, 
3^,340, 43 «, 498, 500. 505. 5*3, 583-1, 586-7. 
Humboldt, 476-7. Illinois, 489. Indian, 327. 
100,481. Jackson, 486. James, 346-7. Jock, 
327. Juniata, 496. Kanawha, 347. Kansas, 
48& Kennebec. 353, 573-4- Kentucky, 227. 
Konrai, 568-9. Lehigh, 299. Ligonier, 485. 
Little, 223. Loire, 542. Luray,347,35»,38i. 
Magalloway, 575. Mahoning, 342. Mamaro- 
nedc, 74. Maritza, 481-2. Maumee, 479. 
Medidne Bow, 478. Merrimac, 102, 500. 
Metis, 329. Middle (Ct.), 129. Middletown, 
243, 349. Mississippi, 19S, 347-8, 473, 478-80, 
487, 480. Missouri, 475, 478-9, 486, 489. 
Mohawk, 12, 13, 32, 85, 197, 199,202. Mo- 
nocacy, 349. Morava, ^8.i, Mt. Hope, 129. 
Napa, 49a Natchaujr, 129. Nau?:atuck, 139- 
4». 5«2. Nepperhan, 75-8, 98. Niantic, 131. 
Mjeiva, 481. Ohio, 39, M5, 485. 515* 590- 

Oneida, 335. Opequon, 347, 497. Orange, 
271. Oregon, 455. Otselic, 302,337. Ottawa, 
327-8. Page, 347, 35<- Passaic, 82, 159, 165, 
166, 5S8. Patapsco, 377. Patuxent, 349. 
Pawcatuck, 129. Peabody, 577. Pekang, 57a. 
Pemigewasset, 576. Penobscot, 574. Petane, 
568. Platte, 478, 486, 489. Pleasant, 146. 
Pompton, 165. Potomac, 17, 29, 51, 55, 238, 
245, 300, 303, 344, 347, 376, 383-4, 488, 496-7- 
Quiaebaug, 129. Quinnipiac, 134. Ramapn, 
171,198,587. Rappahannock, 379., 
4S1. Rhine, 481,522. Rideau, 327. Rigaud, 
32S. Roanoke, 347. Rock, 479. Russian, 
4vo. Saco, 576. Sacondaga, 211. Sacra- 
mento, 476, 490. Saddle, 165, 169. Sague- 
nay, 293. St. Croix, 263. St. Lawrence, 187, 
i>S 204, 210, 293, 301-3, 326, 329, 330, 333, 
500. Salinas, 490. Salmon, 145, 289. Salt, 
237. San Benito, 489. Santa Clara, 49a 
Saugatuck, 128, 138. Sawmill, 75-9. Schroon, 
211. Schuylkill, 299, 389-90, 522. Seaconuet, 
108. Seine, 480. Semmering, 552. Shenan- 
doah, 46, 154. 238, 241-2, 296, 300, 303, 346-7, 
3S8, 486, 49 1-500. 590. Shepaug, 143. Still, 
12S. Strasburg, 347. Susquehanna, 218, 302- 
3. 308, 338, 343. 372-3, 37?, 381, 386, 49", 589. 
Tarti]oux, 339. Tliames, 129, 131, 681. 
Trough Creek, 244. Truckee, 476. Tuo- 
lumne, 491. Virginia, 346, 3S2. Wabash, 
486. Waipara, 568-9. Walikill, 198. WcUs, 
489, 576. While, 578. Willimaniic, 129. 
Winooski, 578. Wissahickon, 389. Wyo- 
ming, 220. Yosemite, 491. 


Ararat, 482. Bald, 575. Bald Eagle, 496. 
Battle (Nev.), 476. Big SeweU, 486. Black, 
186. Blanc, 354. Blue (Pa.), 498. Buck, 
49S. Carmel, 134.5, 486, 581. Catoclin, 349. 
Cone, 485. Dogwood, 4S6. Eik, 478. Ever- 
green, 148. Gambler, 560. Green (Me.), 
278. Hamilton (Cal.), 490. Hedgehog (Ct.). 
145. Holyoke (Ms.), 120, 135. Hortnn (N. 
S.), 286. Jefferson, 382. Jenny Jump, 164. 
Kineo, 574. Kaaterskill, 498. Langton 
(Ber ), 359-62. Little North, 497. Little 
SeweU, 486. McGregor, 192. Mansfield 
(Vt.), 578-9. Marcy, 186. Nescopeck, 498. 
North (N. S.), 284-5. Orange, 158, 174. 
Otter (Peaks oQ, 347. Pea tinny, 170. Pitts- 
field, 197. Plymouth, 142. Pulaski, 485- 
Razorback, 565-6. Rummerfield, 219. San 
Juan, 494. St. Goihard, 187. St. Helena 



(Cal.),49o. Sargent (Me.), 178. Shenandoah, 
582. Schooley's, 173. Simplon, 187. South, 
349. Storm King, 197. Sugarloaf, 182. Tom 
(Ms.), 118-20,127,183,252,579. Vesuviua, 
552. Washington, 237, 515, 525, 575-7, 670-x. 
Wilcox, i4S> 


Adirondack, 185-7, 2 lo-i 1 , 587. Alleghany, 
«43. a45i 347. 350i 477f 485-6, 496, 5<»» S«8- 
Apeuuiue, 551. Balkan, 481. Black Hills, 
47S. Blue Creek, 477- B^ue Ridge, 238, 243, 
346-8, 374, 379-81, 495-7, 500. Catskill, 187-8, 
198,216, 488, 497- Elburz, 571. Erz, 552. 
Fruskagora, 481. Green, 1S4, 198, 574-8. 
Hanz, 114, 52a. Himalaya, 477. North 
(N. S.), 2S4-5. Laurentian, 327. Little 
Savage, 244- Massanulten, 347-8i 35o-«. 
381-1. Mud Creek, 486. North (N. S.), 284-5- 
Orange, 158, 174. Pilot, 576. Promontory, 
477. Pyrenees, 549. Red Dome, 477. Rocky, 
455, 478, 4S1. Sierra Nevada, 243, 476, 492. 
South ^N. S.), 284. Taghconic, 147. Wa- 
chung, 174. Wahsatch, 477. White, 61, 192, 
«93, a93, 503. 5*3, 576-8, 676. 


Albanian, 552. Alconbury, 540. Alum 
Rock, 490. Am^s*8, i24> Armory, 117. Barn- 
door, 145. Barryfield, 325. Batesford, 559. 
Bear Ridge, 139. Belmont, 389. Bengal, 
572. Bergen, 82-4, 166, 168, 588. Berkshire, 
121, 126, 581, 584, 700. Blue, 109, 516, 577. 
Box, 567. " Breakneck " (N. Y.), 71, 582. 
Cave, 236. Chaplain, 228. Chestnut, 102. 106, 
III, 114, 128, 523. Chicopee, 124. Columbia 
Heights, 88, 97. Corey, 525. Corydon, 235. 
Crescent, 124. Cumberland, 107. Druid, 
239. Eagle Rock, 175. E*ist Rock, 135. 
Edgewater, 165-6. Ewingsville, 118, 126. 
Fisher's, 345-6, 498. Foundry, 142. Fox, 
170. Gallows, Si. Gates's, 11S-9, 183, 579. 
Gibbs, 361. Glacier, 491. Grimes's, 158. 
Hampstead, 403. Hanging, 250. Hog-pcn 
Ridge, 139. Hotliam, 562. Indian Rock, 
3S9. Knapton, 360. Laurel, 485. Marl- 
boro, 567. Mono, 316. Moore's, 327. Mull- 
ica, 390. Old Ford, 389. Orange, 169. Pali- 
sades, 77, 79,81, 5S6-7. Panama Rocks (N. 
Y.), 587. Pine, 121. Pleasant, 226. Pros- 
pect, 362. Ray*s,4S5. Red, 237. Remataka, 
568. Richmond, 316. Rideau, 327. River- 
dale, 78, 80, 583. Rocky, 102. Round, 285, 

496-7. Sandy, 58-9, 1S9, 192. Seebach, 317. 
Shinnecock, 155. Shrewsbury, 514. Sidling, 
243. Snake, 169. Turkey, 123, 146. Wash- 
ington Heights, 64, 72, 75, 38S, 583. West, 
540. Windsor, 122. 

Antigua, 592. Atlantic, 355. Barbadoet, 
592. Bermuda, 353-70, 530. Blackwell*s, 69^ 
70, 90, 469. Brady, 478. CampobcUo, 36o» 
265, 269. Cape Breton, 289, 290, 331, 366. 
Capri, 552. Coney, 27, 47, 8;, 155, 523, 583-5. 
Dominica, 592. Glen, 91. Grand, 478, 489. 
Grand Manan, 268-9. Hebridss, 467. Ire- 
land (Ber.), 355, 358. League, 244. Long 
(N. Y.), 12, 28, 29, 5 1, 5S. 63-4. 83, 90, 97, 99, 
148, 150-9, 177-8, 28 J, 530. Long (N. S.), 
286. Magdclene, 331. Mt. Desert, 5, 574. 
Manhattan, 52, 6|, 69, 70, 72, 84, 116, 154, 
158, 16S, 187, 427. Martinique, 5-)2. Mon- 
treal, 575. Newfoundland, 170, 293, 366. 
Parent, 328. Perrot, 575. Prince Edward, 
289-92, 331, 592. Rhode (R. L), loS. St. 
George's, 355. St. Helena, 355. St Kitts, 
592. St. Lucia, 572. Sandwich, 492. Sochia, 
552. Somers, 364. Slalcn, 28, 30. 57, 64, 84, 
88, 97, 99, 150, <S5-9. «77-8, 377, 583- Thoo- 
sand, 333. Trinidad, i-yi. West Indies, 355. 
Wight, 517. Willow, 478. Wolf, 333. 


Androscoggin, 575. Bantam, 142-3. Bloody, 
185. Blue, 490. Bond, 316. Bras d*Or, 
289. Cayuga, 212. Champlain, 32, 185-6. 
211,500, 578-9. Chautauqua, 20^, 223,488, 
587. Clear, 490. Conesus, 216. Croton, 194. 
Crystal, 170. Dcschene, 327. Eagle, 278, 
281. Echo, 170. Erie, 39, 171, 203-6, 225, 
310, 331-2, 58S, 596. Garland, 283. George, 
II, 29, 32, 51, 57, 171, 179.98, an. 578. 
Governor's, 288. Great Salt, 477. Green- 
wood, 170, 584. Hemlock, 216. Huron, 204, 
30', 313, 315, 33>- Lauderdale, 193. Ma- 
hopac, 582. Mashapaug, 129. Memphre- 
magog, 198. Michigan, 479. Mirror, 491. 
Mohonk, 198. Moosehead, 574-5. Napa, 
491- Ontario, 204, 214, 222, 301, 310, 314, 
3»o, 333, 593. Otsego, 197. Piseco, 211. 
Pleasant, an, 378. Quinsigamond, no. 
Rocky Hill, 120. Rogers, 131. Round, 37S. 
St. Clair, 301, 311. Saltonstall, 133. Sara- 
toga, 192. Schroon,2it. Seneca, 211. Sil- 
ver, 155, 216, 222. Simco?, 316. Southwick, 



xx^ Sopsrior, 331. Thousand Islandft, 333. 
TueacbeK, 327. Twin, 147. Two Mounuins, 
32& Whimey, 135, 148, 249. Winnipisco- 
Cee. 293. 576. 


Amietam, 347, 3S4. Block, 121-3. Bloody 
Ron, 185. Buffalo, 22a. Bull Run, 375. 
Caitarausus, 204. Cub Run, 374-$. Elk, 
236. Furnace, 129. Uarrod's, 236. Kiwaka, 
S)6&. Mdl, 121. Newton, 91. North, 211. 
Oveipeck, 165. Plum, 237. Pole, 478. 
Queen's, 327. Roaring, 139. Rondout, 19S. 
Spuyten Duyvil, 64, 71-2, 78-So, 383. Smith's, 
49a Sunswick, 90W West Canada, 21a )fel- 
lo«. 477- 


Bridal Veil, 491. Chaudiire, 327. Clifton 
(N. J.X 170. Fninkliu, 577. Genesee, 214, 
si6w Guildhall, 577. Great Falls of Poto- 
mac, 376, 497. Haines, 216. Hemlock, 509. 
Horseshoe (Niagara), 202. Raaterskill, 216. 
Kezah (Me.)» 577. Montmorenci, 330. 
Ifomey, S74> Nevada, 491. Niagara, 28, 203, 
214-16, 293, 3S2, 488, 586. Paterson, 167. 
Pontook, 576. Portage, 214. Sciota, 341. 
Seneca, soS, 312. Trenton, 210, 212, 334-6. 
Vernal, 491. Wannon, 560, 563. Wappio- 
fer's, 194-5- Vo«3mite, 491. 


Adriatic Sea, 552. Atlantic Ocean, 48, 
64, 176, 405. 4*^7, 473. 5>3- Ahxandria Bay, 
209U Basin of Miuas, 2S6-9. Bedford Basin, 
287-3. Bic Bay, 329. Bosporus, 482. Bos- 
ton Harbor, 113, 282. Canso, Strait of, 
389. Caspian Sea, 571. Chedabucto, 2S9. 
Chesapeake, 352, 377. Cold Spring Harbor 
(L. I.), 150. Fresh Kills (S. I.), 157. Fuudy, 
269, 2S4. Georgian, 315-16. Gowanus, 88. 
Oraasy, 35S, 362, 365. Great South (L. I.),' 
155. Golf Stream, 364-5. Hamilton Harbor, 
3S& Harrington Sound, 359'6a Hell Gate, 
90, 9S. Katskill (Lake C^eorge), 186. Kill 
van Kull, 84, 155. Long Island Sound, 61, 
641 74. «5. 90. 96, 128^, 14a, 249. Mahone. 
a88, 293. Mediterranean Sea, 593. Morris 
Cove, 133. Mt. Hope, loS. The Narrows, 
64* 158. Newark, 84, 155, 583. New York, 
64* ^t 155' Northwest Arm, 287. North 
West Bay (Lake Geoiige), 186. Owen Sound, 
ai$-i6. Pacific Ocean, 48, 473. 49»f 57o, 572- 
Pakocrystjc Sea, 23. PaMamaquoddy, 268. 

Pelham, 73, 96, 249. Providence, 108. Sag 
Harbor (L. 1.), 155. Sl Lavkrence Gulf, 59s. 
Sanbornton, 577. St. Margaret's, 2S8. St. 
Mary's, 284. Somes Sound, 277, 281. Staten 
Island Sound, 155. Tappan Sea, 8a Tra^ 
cadie Harbor, 291. 


Battery, N. Y., 98.9, 433, 583- Bidwell, 
Buffalo, 203. Blue Grass, Ky., 224. Boston 
Common, 105-6. Bowling Green, N. Y.,433. 
Bronx, N. Y., 95-6. Brooklyn City, 8S-9. 
Central, N. Y., 64-8, 70, 85, 02-5, 98, 100, 
187, X97-8, 376, 403, 43*1 45». 453. 465, 
686. Chestnut Hill Reservoir, Boston, 102, 
106, III, 114, 128, 523. Chicago, 224. City 
Hall, N. Y., 86, loa Clareraont, N. Y., 
96. Copley Sq. (called " Trinity "), Boston, 
27, 106. Crotona, N. Y., 96. Druid Hill, 
Bait., 238, 781. East Rock, New Haven, 
135-6. Edge water, N. Y., 96. Fairmount, 
Phila., 389, 679. Fleetwood, N. Y., 73. 
Front, Buffalo, 5S8. Gilmour*s, 327. Hamp- 
den, Springfield, 117, 579-80. Harvard Sq., 
101, 103. International, Niagara, 199, 586. 
Jerome, N. Y., 71-3, 75, 138, 58a. Lincoln, 
Buffalo, 203. Llewellyn, N. J., 160-1, 175. 
Manhattan Sq., N. Y., 95. Mary's, N. Y., 
96. Morningside, N. Y., 70,95. Mt. Morris, 
64. Pelham Bay, N. Y., 96. Pemberton 
Sq., Boston, 104-5, ■*<>» '^8, 662. Pleasure 
Ridge, 237. Pt. Pleasant, 287. Prospect, 
Brooklyn, 27, 87-9, 98, 94, 97. 583, 686-6, 
Public Garden of Boston, 105-6, 114. Public 
Gardens of Halifax, 2S7. Riverside, N. Y., 
68, 94, 585. Rowley Green, 102. Van Cort* 
landt, N. Y., 95-6. Washington Athletic, 
573. Washington Square, N. Y., 16, 23-6, 
a8, 33, 5«-». 54, W-6, 8a, 9», 98, loi, 168, 
191, 207, 368, 388, 391, 438-31, 482-4, 45», 
453, 455. 46t-6, 470, 583-6. 611, 774- Wash- 
ington Square, Phila., 494, 497. Westfield 
Green, N. Y., 206. West Springfield Com- 
mon, 120. Woodward's Garden, San Fran- 
cisco, 49a. 

RAILROADS (See pp. 591-8). 
Baltimore & Ohio, 238, 242, 245, 3So^ 
Boston & Albany, a6, 128, 479. Buffalo, 
N. Y. & P., 222. Chesapeake & Ohio, 350-1. 
Chicago, Burlington & Quincy, 486. Con- 
cord, 50a Conn. River, 127, 19S. Canadian 
Pacific, 328. D., L. & W., 82, 588. Erie, 8a, 



85, 165, 198, 2t6-i8, 222-3, 3«»4-5- Fall River 
& Newport, 198. Grand Trunk, 328. Hud- 
son River, 190, 192, 195, 198. Intercolonial, 
2S5, 329. Lehigh Valley, 219, 221. Long 
Island, 154. Missouri Pacific. 486. N. J. 
Central, 82, 85. New London Northern, 
129. N. Y. Central, 192, 198, 201, 209. N. 
Y., P. & O., 222. New Zealand, 569-70. 
Pacific, 475. P. D. & E. (111.). 486. Penn- 
sylvania, 82, 389, 588. Prince Edward Is- 
land, 291-2. Richmond & Alleghany, 350. 
Union Pacific, 473- Valley Branch of B. & 
O., 350. Vermont Central, 184. Wabash, 
486. West Shore, 83-4, 168, 589. 


Acadia, 28s- Amherst, 113, 142. Bowdoin, 
565. Butler Univ., 786. Cambridge Univ., 
429. 434. 5*4, 544» 557, 79i- "Chrysalis," 
428-9. Columbia, (130,216,436-7. Cornell 
Univ., 772. Dartmouth, 508, 766. Dickinson, 
344, 512. Drew Theol. Sera., 344. Eton, 
533. (Georgetown, 233. Glasgow Univ., 545. 
Haileybury, 544. Harvard, 25, loi, 103, 
"3, 13 '.256, 386, 397. 403, 434-5. 437.494, 
514,658,665, 767. Haverford, 25, 389, 503, 
779. Iowa, 323, 669. Kentucky Wesleyan 
Univ., 233. Kenyon, 784. King's (Cam.), 
429, 434. King's (N. S.), 286. Knox, 65S. 
Lafayette, 173, 669. Lehigh Univ., 780. 
Maine Agricultural, 257, 277. Middlebury, 
196. New York, 436. New York Univ., 
428-44. 454-72. Oxford Univ., 469, 471, 533. 
Pennsylvania Univ., 388, 494. Princeton, 

434, 777- Rutgers, 159. 5:warthmore, 508. 
Toronto Univ., 318. Trinity (Cam.), 544. 
Trinity (Hartford), 136. Virginia Univ., 350, 

435. West Point, 194. Williams, 185. Yale, 
"3, 127. >3»-3, MO, 256, 304, 890-40&, 424, 
434-5, 439. 447, 464-6, 494. 657, 660, 711, 
722-3, 728, 732, 770- 


AgriaiUural Hall, London, 547-8. Alex- 
andra Palace, London, 535. Alnwick CZastie, 
390, 404. Alumni Hail, Yale, 39S-9. Ar- 
mory, Springfield, 114, 124-5, 580. Arsenal, 
N. Y., 95. Benedick, N. Y., 65, 440. Bicy- 
cle Club Houses : Baltimore, 590, 781 ; Bos- 
ton, 105-6, 767; Brooklyn, 97, 586; New 
York, 96, 586 ; Philadelphia, 589 ; St. Louis, 
652 ; Washington, 590. Boston Cydorama, 
385. Capitol, Albany, 193. Capitol, Wash- 

ington, 371-2, 501. Centennial Buildings, 
Phiia., 3S9. Cheshire Academy, Ct., 134, 
250. "Chrysalis College," 42S-9. Citadel, 
Halifax, 287, 292. City Halls : Boston, 105 ; 
Brooklyn, 88 ; Buffalo, 52 ; New Haven, 133 ; 
New York, 48, 78, 82, 85, 88, 99, 100, 499; 
Philadelphia, 389; Springfield, 117, 120, 
124-5 \ Yonkers, 78. Cosmian Hall, Florence, 
Ms., 119. Court Houses: Boston, 105; 
Brooklyn, 90; New York, 48. Crystal Pal- 
ace, London, 405. Custom Houses : Boston, 
105 ; New York, 369. Elm City Rink, 401. 
Equitable Building, N. Y., 99. Faneuil 
Hall, Boston, 105. Grace Church, N.Y., 66. 
Grand Central Depot N. Y., 99. Grey- 
stone, N. Y., 79-80. Insane Asylum, Balti- 
more, 377. Institute of Technology, Boston, 
106, 582. Kentucky State House, 233. Lick 
Observatory, Cal., 490. Litchfield Mansion, 
N. Y., 5S5. Ludlow St. Jail, N. Y., 8&. 
Lyndehurst, N. Y., 79-So. Manor House, 
Yonkers, 78. Massachusetts State House, 
104, 113, 116. Mechanics' Pavilion, Port- 
land, Or., 492. Memorial Hall, Dedham, 
Ms., 107. Metropolitan Methodist Church, 
Toronto, 318. Monastery, N. J., 83, 589. 
Morgan School, Clinton, Ct., 134. Ml. Hd- 
yoke Female Seminary, 120. Museum of 
Fine Arts, Boston, 106. Music Hall, New 
Haven, 398, 400. Nassau Hall, Princeton, 
N. J-. 434- Nat. Hist. Museum, Boston, 
106. Naval Hospital, N. Y., 88. Oraton 
Hall, Newark, N. J., 83, 170, 174, 589. 
Penn. Military Academy, Chester, 372. 
Phillips Academy at Andover, 2aS. Post 
Offices : Boston, 105 ; Cleveland, 500; New 
York, 48; Paris, 458. Poltstown Opera 
House, 484. Rosalie Villa, Chicago, 529. 
Royal Courts Chambers, London, 550. ''Rub- 
bish Palace," 428-9. St. Botolph's Comer, 
102. St. Croix Hall, Calais, Me.. 265. 
Shenandoah Academy, Va., 345. Soldiers* 
Home, D. C, 376. Springfield City Library, 
126. State Fishery, N. Y., 222. State Hos- 
pital, Worcester, Ms., no. Stewart's Cathe- 
dral, Garden City, L. I., 152. Sunnyside, N. 
Y.,79. Trinity Church, Boston, T06. Trinity 
Church, N. Y., 87, 99, 437. Tuileries, Paris, 
390. University Building, N. Y., 65, 423-44, 
454-72. Union Depot, Worcester, Ms,, 514. 
U. S. Armory, Springfield, Ms., 114, 124-5. 
Villa of D. b. Mills, Millbrae, Cal., 492. 
Williamsburg Savings Bank, Brooklyn, 92. 




Adirondack Wilderness, 186-7, 587. Adrian- 
ople Plains, Tur., 48a. Black Forest, Ger., 
481. Blue Grass Region of Ky., 224-7, 
132-3. Brooklyn Bridge, 36-9. Brooklyn 
Navy Yard, 88, 346. Cape May, 593. Cat 
Hole Pass, Ct., 137. Crawford's Cave, 
Ky., 228. Croton Reservoir, N. Y., 70, 
95. Desert of Despair, 571, Devil's Hole, 
Bermuda, 360. Flume, N. H., 61, 576. 
Forest of Dean, 540, (198). Forks of the 
Kennebec, Me., 573-4. Forty Mile Bush, 
N. Z., 568. Forty Mile Desert of Nevada, 
476. Furca Pass, 532. Great American 
Desert, 477. Great Plains of Utah, 475. 
Hanging Rocks of Newport, loS. High 
Bridge on the Harlem, 70-72, 583. Holborn 
Viaduct, 554. Hoosac Tunnel, Ms., 191, 
194, 488. Horse Shoe Curve, 496. Hudson 
River Tunnel, 433. Kittery Navy Yard, 101, 
246. Laramie Plains, 478. Lewlstown Nar- 
rows, Pa., 496. Lumy Cavern, Va., 34S, 
381-3. Mammoth Cave, 231-2, 381-2. Man- 
awatu Gorge, N. Z., 568. Meeling Pass, 
573. Middlesex Notch, Vt., 578. Milldam, 
Boston, 106. Norambega, 279. Northern 
Maine Wilderness, 575. Obelisk of Alex- 
andria, 465. Ottawa Long Soult Rapids, 
338. Ovens, Mt. Desert, 279. Ox Bow of 
the Conn., 120. Pack Saddle of the Cone- 
maugh, 496. Paulus Hook, N. J., 168. 
Red Desert of Wyoming, 477. Royal Dock- 
yard at Bermuda, 3 58. Shades of Death, 
Va., 243. Stony Rises, 561. Streatham, 
Plains, 561. Weka Pass, 568-9. West Shore 
Tunnel, 589. Weyer's Cave, Va., 382. Will- 
iams Monument at Lake George, 185. 


•Subscribers to book are marked thus (•). 

Adrian, 785. i&>lu5, 769, 777. Akron, 
784. Albany, 679, 770. Albert, 793. Alle- 
ghany Co., 772. Allston, 766. Alpha, 778. 
Amateur, 792. Amherst Coll., 113. Anfield, 
553, 557-8. Ann Arbor, 785. Ararat, 561. 
•Arid, 775, 789. Atalanta, 777. Auburn, 785. 
Auckland, 794. Augusta, 783. Avondale, 784. 
Ballatat, 561, 793. •Baltimore, 781. Bay 
City, 7S9. Batavia, 770. Bath, 544. Beaver 
Valley, 515, 778. •Bedford, 97, 586, 770, 
775. Belleville, 325, 793. Belsize, 531-2, 541- 
a, 791. Berkshire Co., 768. Binghamton, 
318, 308, 770L Birmingham, 783. BirchfieM, 

790. Bloomington, 786. Bordelais, 56a. 
Boocobel, 768. Boston, 25, 105-6, 109, 504-5, 
514, 516-18, 523, 525-6, 615, 656, 679, 766, 
793. Brighton, 784. Brisbane, 793. Brix- 
ton, 554. Bromley, 554. Brooklyn, 97, 586, 
77O1 775- Brunswick, 777. Buckeye, 784. 
Buffalo, 771. Calais, 765. California, 789. 
Cambridge Univ., 544, 791. Camden, 776. 
Canandaigna, 773. Canonbury, 543, 554, 

791. Canton, 778, 784. Cape Town, bc^^. 
Capitol, 348, 376, 515, 590, 652, 782. Carl- 
ton, 561-2, Carmi, 786. Cazenovia, 336, 
772. Centaur, 543, 789. Chambersburg, 778. 
Champion City, 345, 7H5. Chailestown, 767. 
Charlotte, 782. Chatham, 772. Chelsea, 679, 
767. Chemeketa, 788. Cheshire, 769. Chey- 
enne, 7S8. Chicago, 225, 396, 320, 519, 529, 
573. 679, 786. Chrisichurch, 567, 653, 794. 
Cincinnati, 224, 784. •Citizens, 96-7, 523, 
586, 6i2, 773. City, 563, 767. Clarence, 544. 
Clarion, 778. Clearfield, 778. Cleveland, 
326, 660, 784. Cohoes, 772. Coldwater, 7)^5. 
College Hill, 784. Colorado, 788. Colum- 
bia, 776, 778, 783. Columbus, 782. Connect- 
icut, 769. Cornell Univ., 772. Cornetia, 770. 
Corning, 772. •Cortlandt, 775. Coventry, 

790. Crescent, 783. Dakota, 788. D;.n- 
bury, 769. Dayton, 784. Delaware, 775. 
Derby, 769. Detroit, 311, 322, 505, 785. 
Dorchester, 527. Druid, 781. Dunkuk, 772. 
Eaglehawk-United, 793. East Saginaw, 
785. Elgin, 786. Elizabeth, 164, 660, 776. 
Elmira, 772. Elyria, 784. Emporia, 788. 
Essex, 164, 777. Eureka, 793. Eurota, 787. 
Facile, 156. Fall River, 767. Falls City, 783. 
Faribault, 787. Fitchburg, 767. Florence, 
767. Forest, 789. Ft. Schuyler, 776. Ft, 
Wayne, 786. Fostoria, 784. Frisco, 787. 
Galveston, 783. Garden City, 493, 789. Ger- 
mantown, 779. Glen, 776. Goderich, 789. 
Golden City, 789. Greenfield, 767. Green- 
wich, 772. Hackensack, 776. Hagarstown, 
782. Hamilton, 789, 793. Harlem, 96, 586, 
772, 774. Harrisburg, 779. Haverford Coll., 
779. Haverhill, 767. Haverstock, 538-41, 

791. Heights, 97, 770. Helena, 788. Hen- 
derson, 783. Hermes, 529. Hobart, 563. 
Holyoke, 767. •Hudson, 772. Hudson Co., 
776. Huntingdon, 779. Indiana, 785. Indian- 
apolis, 786. Indiannia, 787. •Ixion, 96-7, 
164, 197, 524, 586, 667, 774. Jackson, 785. 
Jamestown, 773. Junior, 377, 781, Kankakee, 
787. Kansas City, 787. Kennebec Co., 765. 



Rent, 790. Kenton, 7S3. Kentucky, 783. 
Keystone, 780. •King's Co., 97, 586, 770. 
Kingston, 789. Kiswaukee, 786. La Crosse, 
787. La Fayette, 781, 786. Lafayette Coll., 
i73i ^- Lancaster, 779. Laramie, 788. 
Lawrence, 514, 660, 768, 78S. Lehigh Univ., 
780. Leroy, 772. Lexington, 783. Liverpool 
Cycle Buglers', 791. Lombard, 694. Lon- 
don, 533, 544, 56S, 79t. London Scottish, 553. 
Long Island, 97, 586, 771. Louisville, 527, 
783. Lowell, 517,768. Macon, 782. Madison 
Co., 787. Maiden, 768. Manchester, 500, 
766. Manhattan, 187. Mansfield, 779. Mar- 
blehead, 76S. Marniion, 563, 794. Mary- 
land, 590, 652, 7S1. ^Massachusetts, 105-6, 
113, 258, 279, 504, 508. 5«» S«7. 679, 767, 774. 
Massillon, 785. Mauch Chunk, 779. Me- 
dina Co., 785. Melbounie, 558-9, 561-3, 706, 
793. Memphis, 783. Mercury, 772, 785, 7S7. 
Merid^n, 128, 138, 769. Merrimac, 768. 
Metropolitan of Iowa, 787. Middlesex, 554, 
567. Middletown, 769, 77a. •Milford, 768. 
Millbury, 76S. Millville, 777. Milwaukee, 
519,767. Missouri, 7S7. Monmouth Co., 778. 
Montclair, 777. Montgomery, 783. Montreal, 
330, 504, 790. •Montrose, 779. Morris, 776.7. 
Mountain, 779. Nacionel, 790. Nashua, 
508,766. Nashville, 783. New Britain, 770. 
Newburg, 772. New Haven, 660, 770. New 
Jersey, 777-8. New London Co., 770. New 
Orleans, 500, 783. •New York, 24, 96, 504, 
586-7, 772-3. Niagara Falls, 775. Nobles- 
ville, 786. Nonantum, 768. Normamby, 
793. Norristown, 779. North Adelaide, 793. 
Northampton, 127, 76S. North Ix)ndon, 534, 
S43f 79^' North Otago, 794. North Road, 
557. Oakland, 492, 789. Old Dominion, 783. 
Olean, 775. Omaha, 788. Orange, 509, 530, 
725, 768, 776-7. Oregon, 788. Oskaloosa, 
787. Oswego, 775. Ottawa, 327, 330, 789. 
Ottumwa, 787. •Ovid, 660, 785. Owl, 529, 
776. Oxford Univ., 568. Pahquioque, 769. 
Park City, 783. Passaic Co., 778. Paw- 
tucket, 769. Penn City, 500. •Pennsylva- 
nia, 589, 65a, 780. Peoria, 783, 787. Pequon- 
nock, 769. Perth Amboy, 777. •Philadel- 
phia, 589, 652, 779. Pickwick, 567. Pilot, 

793. Pine Tree, 765. Pioneer, 567, 569, 

794. Port Elgin, 315, 789. Portland, 359, 
275, 766. Portsmouth, 785. Pottstown, 484, 
780. Preston, 566. Princeton, 787. Prince- 
ton Coll., 777. •Providence, 769. Ramblers, 
787, 789, 793. Randolph, 315, 775. Read- 

ing, 7S0. Redfem, 565. Rhode Island, 121. 
Rochester, 775. Rockford, 787. Rocking- 
ham, 766. Rockville, 770. Rome, 201, 700, 
776. Roselle, 77S. Rovers, 784. Rush Co., 

786. •Rutland, 766. St. Catherine, 326. 
St. Cloud, 787. St. John, 790, St. Louis^ 
487, 785. St. Louis Star, 787. St. Mary's, 

789. St. Thomas, 314, 789. •Salem, 768. 
Salt Lake, 7S8. Sandhurst, 562. San Fran- 
Cisco, 4^9, 789. Saratoga, 776. Schenectady, 
776, •Scranlon, 340, 780. Seaside, 78a. 
Sefton and Dingle, 791. Simcoe, 789. Sit- 
tingboume, 7^. Somerville, 768. Sparta, 

787. •Springfield, 114-15, >49» 182,254,508, 
524, 547. 661, 768, 793, 799. Stamford, 770. 
Star, 315, 351, 766, 768, 782. Stoneham, 
769. Surrey, 543, 547, 564. Susquehanna, 
780. Swallows, 791. Sydney, 564, 793. SjTa- 
cuse, 776. Tasmanian, 563. Taunton, 769. 
Temple, 547. Terre Haute, 786. Thoni- 
dike, 766. Titusville, 781. Toledo, 785. To- 
ronto, 31 9-3o, 789. Tremont, 517, 767. Tren- 
ton, 778. Troy, 776. Trumbull, 785. Truro, 

790. Turin, 700. Tuskegee, 783. Unadilla, 
772. Valley, 785. Valley City, 785. Ver- 
mont, 766. Vernon, 772, 785. Victor, 779, 
783. Victoria, 560. Waitcmata, 794. Wake- 
field, 769. Walden, 776. Wanderers, 789. 
Wappingers, 776. Warmambool, 559, 794. 
Washington, 374, 782. Waterbury, 770. 
•Weedsport, 776. Wellington, 794. Wells- 
boro, 781. Wes'.boro, 769. Westminster, 78a. 
West Point, 783. Weymouth, 769. Wheel- 
ing, 78a. Whirling, 781. Wilkesbarre, 781. 
Williainsport, 781. Wilmington, 782. Winni- 
peg* 790- Winona, 787. •Wood River, 788. 
Woodstock, 789. Woodstown, 778. Wor- 
cester, 769. Woronoco, 769. Xenia, 785. 
Yale, 660, 770. Young^own, 785. Zane»- 
ville, 785. 


Greenfield, L. I., 152. Greenwood, L. L, 
90, 469. Machpelah, N. J., 84, 589. Mt. 
Aubuni, Ms., 103. National, Pa., 384'$' 
Pine Hill, Ms., lao. Sleepy Hollow, N. V., 
76. Woodlands, Pa., 390. Woodlawn, N.Y., 
7«i «38» 583. 


Chesapeake & Ohio, 12, 39, 32, 39, 51 > 339- 
345. Conn. River, 180. Delaware & Hud- 
son, 44. 1S9, 340. Erie, 8, 28, 32, 57, 197- 
308, 316-17, 488. Juniata, 496. Morris, 173, 
307. Raritan, 167, 173. Susquehanna, 377-8. 



TteB fonowing list is dengned to give the family name of every pencm mentioned id this 
book, and also of many who are alhided to without being named. References to such allusions 
are cadoasd in parenthesis. Quotation-marks cover pseudonyms and names of fictitious per> 
•oWk The star (*) points to bi;thdays. The list contains 1476 names and 3126 references. 

Ajoob, 177-S, 619-31, 614* 627, Ixxxiv. (604, 
107. 7^)- Abbott, 556, $95. Abercrombie, 
iS$. Ackerman, 404- Adam, 444, 568, 645, 
684, 7201 Adams, 100, 113, 149, 177, 217, 
»«. 33 »» 53S, 553-4, 557-«» M/- "Adoles- 
cens," 500. **iEacas," 305. "Agonisles," 
690. Ahem, 5J2. Albert-£dward, 469*7 <• 
Albone, 557-S. Albutt, 645. Aldrich, 431. 
Afexander, jji. "Alsamon," 641. Allan, 
S92. Albn, 15 f, 186, 339, 34S, 554. 674. 6H8. 
AUey, 627, 657. Aim, •6aS. "Amaryllis," 
443. Amss, 134. Amhent, ta;, 185. Amis, 
610. Amm^n, 35a. "Ananias," 349, 495. 
Anderson (232X And:rton, 537. Andr^, 76, 
80. i6> Andrews, 645. App, 500. Apple- 
ton, 65, 81, 87, 96, 100, 155, 198, 431, 434. 
411-13, TCKX Applsyard, 4, 554, 557. Archi- 
bald, 470* Aristides, 718. Arming, 564. 
Armstrong, 466. Arnold, 15, 169, 30}, 728. 
"'Arry," 641. Ash, 564. Ashby, 347. 348. 
Ashmead, 646. "Asmodsus," 14. Atkins, 
«»».6SS. 677. Atkinson, 645, 693. Atwater, 
teS (180, 423, 722-3). Aub:, 458. Aurelius, 
466. Austin, •ftaS. Aiiten,668. Auty, 644- 
Avery. 674. Aycrs, ♦518-9, SJ«, 594. •627-8. 
675. 7i6(^>jX 

"Baby," 553, 558. Bacon, 173. Baedeker, 
893, 640. Bagg, 183, 201, 209-10, 610 (f3o-T, 
733-3X Bagot, 560, 696. Bailsy,493- Baird, 
f6o, 668 (630). Baker, •4S7. Baldwin, 3S4, 
578, 5S2, 609, 658 (395). Bale, 696. Ball, 
554. Ballantyne, 635. Bancroft (23, 406, 
736). Baney, 610. Bannard (2). Baquie, 
6*8. Bar, 607. "Bard," 506. Bardeen, 
(213). Bardw^ll, 610. Barkman, ^530, 584-5, 
597» 6»5t 655, 677. Barlow, 561. Barnard, 
631. Barnes, 323, 600, 635, *668-9. Bamett, 
»J5f 245. 6o> Barrett, 609. Barrick, 376. 
Barrow, 553, 689. Barthol, 551-2. Bartlett, 
*386, 62S. Barton, 201, 210-11. Bartram, 
S6«>645(369X Ba8hall,6|5. '* Basil," 215-16, 
(437-8). Bas3one, 700. Bason, 562. Bassett, 
•$35, ^637, 663-5, 675 (603, 639-30, 704, 711). 
Baatian, 500. Bates, 314, 3>9-3o, *so5, 610, 
6sff , 636, 639, 633 , 657 (311, 673). Batchelder, 
S7S» ^76>7. Bat^hman, 244. Baxter, soi, 
6eo,6s7- Bayley,63S. Bayliss, 546. Beach, 

77, 188. Beal, •doS. Beasley, 599. Beaaley, 

553. Beck, 554. Beckers, 575. Beckwith, 
•627,666-7,675(633). Beddo,(233). Becbe, 
609. Beecher, 403. Beers, 99, 108, 136, 177, 
187, 4G6, 577, 701 (737, 733). Beekman, 585. 
Bcgg, 635. Bell, •529, 553. Belcher, 658. 
Benassii, 698. Benjamin, 355, 483, 66t. Ben- 
nett, 492, 561, 627. Benson, 530. Bcntley, 
499 (>3i)< Benton, 510. Bemhard, 154. 
Bemiyer, 698. Bettison, 530. " Bibliopil," 
699. Bidwell, 96, 586, 574, 627-S. Bien, 
174-5. Biederman, 661. Bigelow, 523,*657. 
Biglin (36S-9). Bingham, 645, 651, 70a 
Binns, 4S3, '543. Bird, 393. Bishop, 431, 
559. 563-4. 652, 728. Bittenger, 643. Black, 
561. Blackball, 635. Dlackham,6s8. Black- 
well, 542, 554. Blacqne, 83. Blaine. (726). 
Blake, •628. Blanchard, 646. Blatchford, 
113. Blcy, •493. Blyth, 658. Blythe, 635. 
Bogardus, 493. Bolton, 548, 6S3. Bonami, 
69S. "Bones," 431. Bonnell, 62S. Booth, 
493. 632. Borrow, 4)6. Bosworth, 658. 
Bouchette, 331. Bouchisr, 562. Boiiidon, 

554. Boustcd, 634. Bowen, 221-2, 563, 588, 
677. Bowles, 115, '546. Bowman, 158, 492. 
Braddock, 243. Bradford (463, 607X Brad- 
ley, 254, 579- Bradney, 645. Brady, 174. 
Bragg, 228. Brevoort, 611. Brewster, 370, 
591,627,643,657. Bridgman, •ssi, Brierlcy, 
330, 634-5, ^669. Briggs, 119, 559, 563. 
Brigham, 114. Bristed, •727. Bristol, 658. 
Broadbent, 562. Brock, 382, 545. Brockett, 
177. Brooke, 609, 645. Brooks, 679 (412). 
Bromley, 176. Brown, 141, 170, 177, 185, 
384, 471. •537, 543. 553, 557, 600, 627, 6S0. 
" Brown," 92, 499, 502, 605, 718. Browning, 
655. Bruce, 470, *62S. Brunelleschi, 429. 
Bryan, 700. Bryant, 3 16, 667, 700. Bryson, 
645- "Bucephale," 238, 242. Buchanan, 
686. Buckingham, 555 (363). Budds, 565. 
Buell, 228,658(121, 181, 191, 197). Buik,645. 
"BuflF," 424. Bull, 221, 222, "402," 587, 
5S8, 591, 627, 677 (215, 217). Bullinger, 100. 
Bunce, 700. Btinner (36, 44, 246, 727). Bur- 
bank, 16, III, 506, 673, 677. Burchard (460). 
Burgoyne, 127, 186. Burke, 737. Bum, 645, 
652, 665, 695. Burnett, 645. Bumham, 530, 



675, 693. Burr, 157. Burrill, 617. Bars- 
ton, 55S-9, 560. Burt, 63a. Bury, 647, 6S7. 
Busby, 598. Butcher, 1 14, 127, 135, 147* 32o> 
3"»374, 500. 506-S, 511, 517, 5»9-ai, 524,526, 
528-30 (714). Butler, 208, 517, 554, 627. 
Buzzard, 560. " Byng," 428. Byrou (1, 224). 
Cable, 331. Calddeugh, 645. Callahan, 
493. Callan, '545. Callander, 553. CaWer- 
Icyi 34, 4^, 47>' Calvert, 560. Cameron, 
iv. Campbell, 127, 330, 488. Campling, 537. 
Canary, 47, 133, 693. Candleman, 383. Can- 
field, 2 15. Candy, *628. Cann, 547. Caples, 
492. Carl, 101. Carley, 610. Camun, 326. 
Carney, 573. Carpenter, 643. Carroll, 631. 
Carter, 144, 384, 560. Carver (259, 274, 286). 
Cary, 542, 681, 731. Case, 73, 583, 646. Cas- 
•6)1,687. Castiglione, 280. Catherwood, 657. 
" Cerberus," 458. Chadwick, 158. Chamard, 
628. Chambers, 652, 675. Cbampe, 169. 
Champlain, 1S5. Chandler, 128, 370, 673 
(25, 261). Chase, 628, 658. Chapin (464). 
Chatfield (405). Chatham, 444. Chickerlng, 
322. Child, 577. Childs, 389. Chinn, 112, 
655,677(258,281). Christopher, 646. Chubb, 
315. Church, 524 (726). Churchill, 656, 663, 
672, 678-9,(428.). Cist, 352. Clapp, 627, 727. 
Clare, 331. Cbrk, 132, 589, 610, 627, 643 
(475)- Clarke, 244, 560, 570, 581, 628, 678-9 
(168,727). Clay, 243, 342. Clegg, 689. Clem- 
ens (i v., 356, 640). " Clericus," 688. Qeve- 
land (547, 726). Close, 645. Cobb, 106, 109, 
646. Coddington, 631. Coe, 114. Coffee, 
668. Coffin, 628. Cole, 559, 650. Coleman, 
646. Coles, 610. Coleridge, 14, 280. Col- 
lamer, 590, 627. Collins, *i28, 138, 315, 668-9, 
683. Colombo, 61 f. Coh, 464. Colion, 99, 

"3. »49, 158. «77. «87, a93, 3ai, 3Sa. 575i 
577-9, 58 1, 590. Columbus, 429 (3). Colvin, 
211. "Com us," 706. "Condor," 506. Conk- 
Hng, 643. Conway, 553, 557. Cook, 159, 174, 
3»6, •493. 553, 609, 645, 675, 687. Cooper, 
«7o, 553, 555, 5'^, 645, 686. Copland, 564, 
696 Corbin, 137, 658. Corcoran (422). Cor- 
dingley, 686, 690-1. Corey, 321, •627, •679. 
Comwallis, 169, 186, 238. Corson, 22, ^52 5, 
577, 655, •670-1 (257, 267, 269-71). Cortis, 
4, 6S4. Coselino, 493. Costentenus, 239. 
Coster, 635. Cotterell, 644. Coventry, 683. 
Couch, 645. Courtney, 519, 543, 645. Cous- 
ens, 645. Couser, •197., 324. Cowen, 
490. Cowles(42i). Cowper,4o6. Cox, 320, 
J5», 538, 560-1. Coy (400). Craft, 118, 579, 
|8a Craigte, 645. Craigin, 488. Cramer, 

501. Crane, 67a "Crapaud," 141. "Cia- 
poo," 141. Crawford, 228, 59a Crawshay, 

645. Cripps,675. Crist, 675. Crocker, 61a 
Croll, 559. Crooke,553,S57. "Crookshanks," 
489. "Crorcroran," 42a. Crosby, 609. Cross- 
man, 376. Cruger, 194. "Cruncher," 41a 
"Crusoe," V. "Cuff," 506. Cummiogs, 627. 
Cunard, 59s. Cunningham, aai, 503, 517, 
5*3, 653, 656, 666-7, 7i2« Cupples, 112, 113, 
655. "Curl," 407-25. Currier, iia. Cur- 
tain, 491. Curtin, 645. Curtis, 519. Cutten, 

" Daggeroni," 439, 439- Dagucrre, 431 
Dalton, *504, 655, 674- Dana, 403. Daniel, 
553, 558- Daniels, 407. Dante, 429. Dar- 
nell, *244, 496, 589. Davies, 645. Davis, 
«7, 403, 563, 698. Day, 127, 281, •sw, 557, 
5S1, 658 (258, 272, 277). Dean, 325, 526, 60a, 
663-5 (7'9)- Dear (379). De Baroncelli, 645, 
651, 688, •698-9. "De Bogus," 429, 439- 
De Civry, 552-3, 697, 699. Decrow, 133. 
" Dedlock," 466. De Forest (45a, 724, rayX 
Defoe (v.). De Garmo, 400. De Gline, 700. 
De Ligne, 645. Delisle, 611. Delnionico, 
611. " De MoIIetts," 4^9, 439- Demosthenes, 
457, 724- "Densdeth," 429. Derrington, 

646. De Senana>ur, 468. Destree, 561. De 
Villers, 699. Dickens, 349, 466, 728 (354, 4«o. 
724). Dickinson, 90, 344, 51a. " Dido," 30$. 
Diederich, 679. Dieskau, 185. Dignam, 669. 
Dimock, 293 (274, 2S6). Dinsmore, 666. 
Diogenes, 14. Disraeli (724). Dixoo, 493. 
Dodge, 610, 657. Donly, 330, 598, •634, 655, 
669,677. Doolittle,*3i9, •634. Dorion, 336. 
Dorr, 366-7. DouUeday, 352,385. Doughty, 
154. Douglass, 330, 390. Downey, 389, 
61a Dowling, •sai. Downs, 658. Draper, 
43 <, 470. Draucker, 609. Dray, 646, 651. 
"Dreeme," 429, 431, 438-41- Drew, 501, 
507, 512. Drullard, 573. Drummond, 646. 
Drury, 688. Drysdale, 356. Dubob, •6a7, 
697, 699. Ducker, •524, •561, 580, 615, 631, 
655, 661-2, 675, 693, 710. Duncan, 552, 558. 
687, 697, •699. Dunn, 625, 627-8. Dunsford, 
567. Durrant, 687. Duryea, 388, Duy- 
ckinck, 434. 439- Dwight, 127. 

Bager, 634. Eakin, 669. Eakins, 330-1, 
634. Early, 347. Eastman, 577. Easton, 
639. Eddy, 327. Edlin, 4. Edward, 223. 
Edwards, 499, 564, 645. 695, 696 (706), 
Efendi, 481. Egali, 481. Egan, 667 (154). 
Egleston, 578. Ehrlich, 217. Eldred, 114, 
•377, 378. • " EUas," 679, Elixabeth, 453- 



£!ffler, 603. Elwcll, •sso, 573, 574, •ea? 
(»S7, 269. 3S3-4, 358, 3621 36s. 3WJ-70)- E'/, 
187, 526» 643, 660 (3S6). Emerson, 731, 733. 
EmpsGn,56o. Engleheart, 553. EngUsli>6io, 
646,675. Enslow, 351. Eutler, 610. Erics- 
toD, 593. Ernberg, 3S9. Emst, 697. Ers- 
kine. 6S4. Ethcringtou, $24, *546-S, 648, 6S5, 
*689, 693-3. Euripides, 466. Evans, 2x1, 
3»-». 334, 37S, 609, 645, 669 (385). Evans, 
724(464)> Everest, •bsS. Everett (179, 189, 
Z91). Kverts, 581. EwcU, 347. 

"Fied," 534, 543, 55«. 641, 643,647. Fair, 
.553. FairfieJd (109, 714). Falconer, 555, 686. 
Faraday, 403. Farnsworth, 559. Fair, 527. 
Fanan, 685. Farrar, 575,645. Farrell, 597, 
6a8. Farrington, 517,645. Favre,69S. Feldt- 
mann, 645. Fell, 553, 628. Fenoglio, 70a 
Fenirick, 635. Ferguson, 62S. Ferris, 470. 
FesBenden, 323. Field, 80. Fields, 15. Fink- 
Icr, ^ 492. Fish (2;6). Fisher, 345, 660. 
Fisk,448. Fiske,«ii3,i42,*522. Fitton,566. 
567. Flaglor, 475. Flei2,6i2. Fleming, 245, 
$00,657. Fletcher, 553, 556-7,646. Florence, 
344* Floyd (214). Folger, 370. Fontaine, 
284, 523. Foote, 559. Force, 352. Fortner, 
558. Foster, 93, 513, 635, 655. •667, 674, 
679, Foiilkes, 56a. Fourdrinier, 663, •665. 
Fowler (224). Fox, 636, 688^, 693 (474). 
Franklin, 386, 70a. Fraser, 329, 553. Frazer, 
J3'i 645. Freer, aoi. Fremont, 421. Fri- 
bttig, J29. Fuller, 574, 645 (410), Fumivall, 
675. Fussell, 685. Fyffc, 560. 

Gadd, 645. Gade, 570. Gaines, c r. , 379. 
Ganage(464). Gambitz, 494. Gamble, 553, 
55& Gambrinus, 612. Garfield, 93, 724. 
Garrard, '698. Garrett, 282, 688. Garrison 
(708X Gates, 1 1 8-9, 183, 186, 579, 587. 
Gault, 560-1. Gcbert, 6^. Geddes, 559-60. 
"Gce8ee,"28i. Genslinger, •670. George, 
**7i S^i, 5^4> Getty, 610. Gibb, 645. 
Gibbes,66& Gibbs.sst, 367. Gibbons, 691. 
Gibion, 489, 493, 625. Gifford, 658. Gil- 
bert, 562 (465). Gill, 137, 560, 683. Gilman, 
>36. y*3. 507, 57^* •6j7, 643, 663-4, 666. Gil- 
^^t 347- Gimblette, 646. Giotto, 429. 
Glen, 650. Gnaedinger, 634. Goddard, 402-3, 
673.688. Godet, 355. Gostze, 21. Golder, 
$5i< Goldsmith (iv.). Goodman, 326, 615, 
^S, 655, 675. Goodnow, •527. Goodwin, 
1»» •535-7, 543. 553-4, 558. Gordon, 244, 
3». Gorman, 244. GormulIy,683. Gomall, 
696. Gorringe, 465. Gorton, 546. Gossett, 
5H- Gould, 79. Gowdy» 527. Goy, 688. 

Goyne, 562. Grace, 96. Gracey,653. Grant, 
465, 724-5, 729, 73«. Graves, 114, 119. 3*4, 
530,627. Gray, 561. Greatrix, 325. Greeley, 
AVh 727- Green, 138, 621, 646. Greene, 
327, 352. Grecnsidcs, 561. Gregory, 348, 
564. GrifEn, 646, 683, 6S5, 689, 690. Griffith 
(384). Griggs, 609. Grimes, 581. Groom, 
645. Grout, 545. Guemey, 553. Gulick, 
•627, Gumey, 644. Guy, 552. 

"Hal," 618. Hale, 731. Hall, 75, 236, 
560 U^O. Hallam, 559, 563-4. Haisall, 657. 
Hamel, 330. Hamerion, 309, 446, 468-9, 731 
(722). Hamlin (202, 727). Hamilton, 658, 
675,687. Hand, 340. Handford, 560. Han- 
Ion, 403. Hansman, 348-9. Harding, 127, 
187-8. •• Hardrider," 506. Harman, 554. 
Harper. 158, 242, 355, 390-«f 402-4, 475. 4«3i 
700. Harrington, 41. Harris, 164, 627-8, 
643. 645 (v., 24, 321, 380). Harrison, 328, 
553* 5631 663-4. Harrod, 236. Harston, 560. 
Hart, 526, 589, 620, 645, 655, •660, 674, 678. 
Haslctt, *638. Haskell (733). Hathaway, 
6a8 (259). Hawley, 658. Hay, 645, 695. 
Hayes, 236, 322, 539, •540. 543. S8i, •627. 
Haynes, 217, 546, 625. Hazleton, 559-60. 
Hazlett, 114, 121, U*), 244, 3»4, 506, 5»3-M, 
518, 67s (102, 179, 673). Heald, 154. Heard, 
645, 679. Heath, 503, 628, 685, 656. Heck- 
man (2S9X " Hcep," 424-5. Helraer, 216. 
Hemmenway, •517. Hendee, 629, 675, 693 
(123, 254)* Hepinstall, 314, 319. Herbert, 
645. Hernu, 546, 555. Herrick, 472 (195, 
295). Herring, 597. Hesketh, 645. Hether- 
ington, 330. Heymer, 574. Hibbard, 598, 
627, 655, 679. Hicks, 528-9. Hipgins, 336 
(239) High, 351, 484, Vs. 498, 552, 589-90. 
675. Higinbotham, 529. Hildebrand, 645. 
Hill, III, 153, 401, 500, 627. Hillier, 547-8, 
643, 6S6-7, 689-90, 692-3, 694. Hills, 557, 
639,645. Hinchcliife, 645. Hitchcock, 675. 
"Hoad," 398, 400-1. Hoadley, 400. Hodges, 
664,674,704(67-18). Hodgin8,695. Hodg- 
man, 562. Hoffman, 333. Hoff master, an. 
Hogg, 628, 645, 649, 695. Holcombe. 323-4- 
Holland, 513, 527, 5S1, 728. HoUister, 492. 
Holmes, 645. Holt, 429, 439(703). Holton, 
610. Homer, 390, 430. Hooker, 347. Hope, 
560. Horsman, 100. Houghton, 386, 402, 
504, 658. Housser, 635. Hovey, 201. How- 
ard, 127, 348, 453, 542, 5«9, •550, 666-7, 681-2, 
(198,320,659). Howell, 675. Howells, 215, 
428. Howland, *656-7 (659). Howitt, 404. 
Hubbard, 482, 696. Hudson, 185. Hughes, 


S53i 64S> Hugo, 439. Hull, 539. Hume, 
561, 565. Humphrey, 352. Hunt, 222 (304)- 
Hunter, *670, 675. Huntingdon, 677. Hunt- 
ington, 582, 625, 628. Huntley, 675. Hunts- 
man, 557. Hurd, 402. Hurlbert (431, 44X1 
463, 720-1). 

lUlBgworth, 64s. Imboden, 347. Ingall, 
S99> 645. Inwards, 6S9. Iliife, 548, 550, 
648, 684-S7, 689-92, 694. Irons, 646. Irving, 
79. Irnk-in, 559, •6aS. " Isabel," 215-6 
(427-8). Ives, 67S- " Ixion," 508, 673, 688. 
"Jack," 4«o-a5- Jackson, 347, 643. 
Jacques, 698. Jacquin, 611. Jacquot, 651, 
699. Jaman, 347. James, 432, 545. Jarrold, 
683. Jarvis, •486. Jefferaon, 339, 351, 435. 
Jeffery, 683. Jeffries, 546. Jenkins, •187, 
•3a7i 330, 559i 567-8. ^627, 635, •666-8, 677 
(617, 619, 704-8). Johnson, 185, 323, 347, 35»» 
408, 4a7» 4361 470, 508, 513, 5S8, 625, •628, 
643. 645. 677, 679, 765 (161). Johnston, 470, 
634. "Jonathan," 402. Jones, 69, 283-4, 
538. •539. 627, 645, 684, 719 (36S). Joshua, 
733' JosHn, •197 (2a, 107, 171). Joy, 560. 
Judd, 582, 685, *689, 692. *' Juggernaut," 
444. Jumel, 72. " Jupiter," 688. 

Kam, ^34. Kattell, 218. Keam, 562. 
Keefe, 561, 565. Keen, 547, 686. Kehh. 
Falconer* 555- KeMogR. 493- Kelly, 690 
(706). Kftmble, 728. Kemmann, 697. Ken- 
daD, 112, 526, •627, 675, 686, Kendrick, 
f 8s. Kenworthy, 645. Kerr, 598. Kerrow, 
553. Kershaw, 526. Ketcham,*i97. Kider- 
Ic^t 553- Killits, 349. Kinch, 588, 658. 
King, 1 13, X26-7, 672, 698. Kirkpatrick, •627, 
677. Kirkwood, 575. Klugc, 675. Knapp, 
67s. Knight, 562, 64s, 688. Knowlton, 336. 
Kno;K, ^628, 658. Knox-Holntes, 645. Koch, 
$54. Kohont, 553. Kolp, •340. Kostovitx, 
48r, 551. Kron, 23, 48, 63, 279, 326, 367. 
526, 671, 679, 706, 720. Knag, 523. Kurtz, 
668. Kusel, •524. 

Ladlsh, 671. Lafon, 156. Laing, 645. 
Laird, 628. Lakin, 378, 508, 526-8. Lalle- 
reent, 139-42, 394. Lamb, 114, 434. Lam- 
son, 17, 22, 4«. 45. 6«6, 714 (260.1, 269, 
S73). Landy, 675. Lane, 330 (399). Lang, 
686, 722. Langdown, *569. Langer, 697. 
I^ngley, •sso, 635 (319). Lansdown, 327. 
Lansing, 656. Larette, 693. Larkin, 127. 
Lathrop, 127. Lawford, 504. Lawrence, 
93i*95' Lawton,*627. Lazare,666. "Lean- 
der," a 16. Lee, 558, 679. Leeson, 645. 
Leete, 132. L^ger, 699. Lennox, s54-5f 645, 

686. 1^0(714). Leonard, 6o> Leslie, 323. 
Lester, 559. Letts, 681-2. Leweliyo, 55^ 
Lewis, 7, •524, 628, 631, 652, 696 (463X 
Lillibridge, 128, 57S. Lincoln, 127, 422, 447, 
465f 724-5- L»n«. 554. Lippincott, i, 168, 658* 
702. Lister, 560. Little, 471, 561, 68a 
Livingston, 594, 627 (714). Lloyd, 151, 553. 
Locket, 645. Logan, 609, 645. Long, 560. 
Longfellow, 430. Longman, 687. Lcng- 
streth, 618. Loomis, 527. Lord, 237. Loid- 
ing, 561. Leasing, 700. Louis (24). Lovci^ 
ing, 525, 679. Low, 523, 548, 659, 6S9, •690. 
Lowiy, 569. Luke, 645. Lyne, 566, 696., 
Lsron, 218. Lynns, 470. 

MacavUy, ^527. McBride, 319, 634. 
McCall, 378. McCandlitth, 548, 689, •691X 
McCann, 527. McCaw, 326. McOcilaa 
(422). McClintock, 680. McClure, 515,656, 
65S (702). McCbok, 228. McCormack, 523. 
McCray, 655. McDonnell, 128, 138, 149, 
237. «48p 325. 388, 484, 508-13, 5»5-»7, 5«9-a«W 
5*4. 527-30, 553. 569. 575. 7«4. McGarrett, 
114,631. "McGillicuddy," 433. MacGowaa, 
>97, 579. Mclnturff (345, 383). McKee, 
41. McKenzie, 660. Mackey, 100. Mo- 
Maniis, 611. McMaster, 186. McMillan, 
587. McNathan, 67a McNeil, 582. Mo- 
Nicoll, 598. MacOwen, 619, 674. Macown, 
325. McRae, 652. Macredy, 640, 645, 65a, 
695. McTigue, 315. Mac William, 548, 689, 
693. Maddox, 645. Mahan,35i. "Mahlier," 
422. "Major," 658. Manny, 666. Marcfae* 
gay, 698. "Maigery," 506. Markham, 223. 
Marriott, 553-5, 557, 646, 685. Marsden, 627. 
Marsha], 578. Marston, 659. Martin, 281, 
564, 652. Marvin, *66o, 675, 687. Mason, 
>». 323. 523. SS9>6o, 645. 681-2. Mathews 
(438, 457-6 1 )■ Malheys,245. Matthews, 500, 
587. Maveety, 323. Maxwell, 245, 50a 
May, 567. Maynard, 610. Mayor, 553. 
Mead, 164, *5o9. Meagher (422). Meeker, 
493. Menzies, 686. Mercer, 553, 557, 606. 
Merrill, 198, 401, 476, *492* 609. Mershon, 
678. Meyer, 547, 645- Meyers, 668, 67S-ft. 
MIdgely, iii, •513, 515 (258, 274, 276-7,379). 
Miles, 672. Miller, 244, 561, '627, 634, 643, 
655. *75. 679 (338, 630). Milner, 542-3, 599. 
Mills, 492, 553, 555-8, 645, 686 (v., 338, 630). 
Mitchell, 645. Mobley, 242. Moigno, 698. 
Monk, 645. Monod, 400-a. Montcalm, 185. 
Moody, 560, 652. Moore, 172, a 10, say, 535, 
548, 554-5. 685, 689, •690, 691-3 (729). Moor- 
house, 557. <Moraii, 245. Morgarn, 499, 610. 



Moli^re, 712. Morley, 645* Morrb, 645, 
683. Moniaon, 177, 535^ 670, 693. Morse, 
43«, 434. 470- Moftby, 347, 379- Moses, 733. 
Mott, 470, 561. Mountfort, 567. Mudd, 637, 
66& Mudge, 663-4> Munger, 3210, 675. 
Mimroe, 19S, 61 5, 626, 627, 710 (24). Myers, 
«45. 500. •590. 62S, •67S. 

Nadal, 447-9 (444» 7*0- Nairn, 540, 551, 
616,639-90,692-3. "Nauiicus," 6»4. Need- 
ham, 564. Neibon, 675. Nelson, 660. Neu- 
hofiEer, 562. Neve, 6S6. Newcastle, 470. 
Newman, 186. Nicholson, 175. Ninimo, 
560. NUb:c,69S. Nix, 553. Nixon, 554-6. 
Noab, V. Noon, 153. Norris, 567, 610. 
Northrup, 5S7. Nungesser, 83. Nunn,645. 

(yBrlen,39i,6sS. " Octopus," 690. Og- 
den, 193. Oliver, 627, 645, 666-7. Ollapod, 
6)6. Olmsted, 93, 95, 335> O'Mara, 327. 
0*Neil, 327. Ord, 645. O'Reilly, 657. 
O'Rottrke, 171. Orr, 635. Osbom, 197. 
Osbonie, 660. O^ood, 15, 293, 3S6, 504, 
575. 577- Oiis, 674. Overman, 662-5, 676, 
679. "Owl," 667. Oxborrow, 538, 553, 555. 

Padman, 5-50-61. Page, 493-*4. 574» 57S, 
589-90. Pagis, 651, 69S. Pagnioud, 699. 
Psibter, S67-9L "Pakeha," 566, 569. Pal- 
ii«y» 352, 3Sd. Palmer, 149, 5S9, 628, 6S7. 
Pftngboni, 345- Paritschke, 697. Park, 678. 
Parker, 105, 56a, 569, 610. Parmely, 579. 
Pannenter, 48S. Parry, 793. Parsons, 127, 
*5i6-i7, 616, ^627. Patch, 167, 2 15-16. Pater- 
•on. S3'. 539-401 5«2, 6S1. Pattison, 645. 
Patton,5<x>,*67o. Paul, "44a." 588. Payne, 
634, 6SJ-3. Pcabody, 515. Peacock, 23. 
Pean.5S3- Pearce,686. Peavey,576. Peck, 
lOQ. Peirce,627. Pellecontre, 698. Pelton, 
332. Pennell, 530, 6i6, 627, 655, 687. Percy, 
loa Perham, •515, 573 (257, 277, 279). 
Perigo, 100. *' Perker," 5 16, 567. Perkins, 
61S, 645. Perreaux, 698. Peterkin, 645. 
Peters, 290- ». 67a. Pettengill, 628, 799(375. 
377). Pettce (260, 276). Petter, 645. Phelps, 
16& PhOip, 6S2. Philiips, 20S, 379, *55o, 
577. 639, 645, 646, 656, 658, 683 (258, 277). 
Phtlpoc, 646, 65a Piatt, 527. Pierrepont 
(464i Pick, 541. Pickering, 394. 400-5. 
577, 693. Pickett, 386. " Pickwick," 280. 
Pitcher, 327. Pitman, 523. Pittr444X Place, 
513. "Podwinkle," 506. Polhill, 50a Polk, 
660. Pool, 643. Pond, 346. Pope, 24, 106, 
3a3-4» 474. 657-9, 664-5, 673. 675, 678, •680, 
7oa-3» 711-14. Popovitz, 481. Porter , 122, 
M$A '79. as* («73), J^ Post, •6a8. 

"Potiphar," 433- Potter, 584, •637. 643, 
64s. 67s. •680 (630). Power, 176, 3 IS. Pow- 
ell, 348, 645. Pratt, 106, III, 139, 147, •50s, 
581, 615, 625-7, 643. 656-9. 663-4, 666-7, 669, 
672, 675, 678, 688-9, 703 (a4, 619, 65S-9, 70a, 
714). Preble, 610. Preecs, 567. Prcssey, 
671. Prial, •666. Price, 307, 341, 646. 
Prince, 470, 525, 675, 693. Proudfoot, 559. 
Prout, 646. Putnam, 139, 625, 637. "Quashi- 
boo," 444. 

Baddiff e, 430. Raleigh, 571. Ra]l,*628. 
Ralph, 154. Rand, 674. Ranken, 645. 
Rankine, 698. Ray, 500. Read, 627. Reed, 
370, 656, 65S. Reeves, 660. Regamey, 698. 
Reidesel, 127. "Remus," v., 34, 38a Renan, 
472. Rennert,6o>. Reve'.l, 249, 542-3. Rey- 
nolds, 527-S, ^533, 553*4> 646, 696. Rhodes, 
675. Rice, 564 (24, 35). Rich, 193, 675. 
Richard, 698. Richards, *678. Richardson, 
62, 63, 231, 646, 658, 6S5. Ridielieu, 459. 
Rideing, 243. Rideout, *49o-i. Ridgway, 
571. Ridley (310). Rielly, 327. Rifat, 48a. 
Uigoley, 698. Ritchie, 172, 507, 511, 523. 
Rittenger, 697. Roach, 316. Robbins, 645. 
Roberts, 446, 468, 541. 543, 563-4, 599, 645-6, 
6S7. Robinson, "44," 646, *' 719," Roche- 
foucauld, 727. Rockwell, 609, 656, 663, 673, 
67&-9. Roether, 315. Rogers, 3 18, 474, 575, 
•628, 632, *67i. Rollins, 499. Ronaldson, 
561. Rood, 197. Roorbach, 164(173). Roose- 
velt, 657 (455). Root, 680. Ropes, 352. 
"Rosalind," 439. Rose, 489. Rosenbluth, 
395. Ross, 579, •627, 635. Rothe, •515. 
Round, 687. Rousset, *553-3. Rowe, 543, 
629,675. Roy, 330. Roylance, 646. Rucker, 
646. Rugg, 565. Ruggles, 598. Rumney, 
646. Rushworth, ^545. • Russell, 553, 696. 
Rust, 138 (581). Rutter, 599, 646. Ryrie, 

Bage, i47> St. Germains, 470. Salsbury, 
544. Sandham, 379, 348, 5»»-»a (258, 374). 
Sargeant, 164. Saveall, 646. Savile, 646^ 
Sawtell, 377, 378. Sawyer, 679. Schaap, 
628. Scherer, 628. Schmied, 697. Schu- 
macher, 592. Schwalbach, 586. Scott, 414, 
4»a, 5*7(393, 7a7>- Scribner, 346, 35a, 43». 
SOf , 570, 655, 65S, 6S7. Scrutton, 646. Scud- 
der, 658. Searlc, 646. Seely, ^348, 687. 
"Selah," 154. Senseney, 677. Serrell, 177. 
Service, 567. Servoss, 113. Seward, 734. 
Seymour, 333. Shafer, 316. Shakespeare, 
407 (4»9). Sharp, 529, 671, 691. Shays, 127, 
147. Sheam, 324. Sheffey, 484. Shelley, 



454, 468. Shepard, 114, 527, 588 (70S). 
Sheppee, 646. Sherburne, 578. Sliernian, 
344, 3;o, 488 (101, 209-10, 334). Sheriff, 500. 
Sherriff, 646. Shields, *628. Shiznroin, 561. 
Shiptou, 643-4, C46, 6S7, 691. Sholes, 594, 
627. Shriver,5S7. Siddall, 718. Sider,646. 
Sidney, 466. Silberer, 697. Sill, vi. Simp- 
son, 100, 646. Singer, 696. Skinner, 370, 
569. Skoglund, 560. Slocum, 503. Sloper, 
564. Smiih, 71, "92," X12, iiS, 126-7, '76, 
182-3, »23, 366, 43a» 493» 499» 5«». 509. 523. 560, 
579. 589. "607," 646,655,671, 691, "718." 
Snell, 152. Snicker, 344, 383. Snow, 6S7. 
Socrates, 466. Solcy, 351. Solomon, 343. 
"Solon," 477. Somers,*52o-2i. Souleiman, 
481. Spalding, 100, 499, 508. Spead, 575. 
Spencer, 554, 685, 6S7. Spicer, 560, 652. 
Spinner, 208. Spofford, 96. Spong, 564. 
"Spot," 410. Spraker,2oo. Spurrier, •684-5, 
688. Stabler, 376, 497 (373)- Stables, 684. 
Stacpoole, 646. Stall, 323-4, 378, 675 (371, 
386). Stanton, 336, 50S, 546, 547, 564-5, 609. 
Stork, 186, 366. Starkey,56i. Stead, 600, 642, 
646. Steffner, 500. Sieiger, 100. Stephen, 
733. Stephenson, *539. Stevens, 48, 15S, 
ao4, 305, *4 73-84, •55», 55a, 558. S70-2, 599, 
655, 657, 668, 675, 698. Stevenson, 560, 598. 
Stewart, 152, 244- Stiles, 403. "Stillflecl," 
428-9. Stillman, 450. Stoddard, 185-7, 211, 
525,679. Stokes, 559-60, 674. Stone, 321-2. 
525, 661, 671. Stoner, 646. Stoney, 646. 
Story, 560. Streeter, ii. (727). Strotip, 176. 
Strong (402). Slruihers, 112. Stunncy,525, 
•548-9, 643, 6S4-6, 690, 692. "Stuyvesant,** 
433. Suberlie, 699. "Suchaplace," 446. Sul- 
livan, 158. Sumner, 609. Surprise, "628, 
632, *67o. Sutton, 554, 646. Swallow, •128, 
Sweeney, 612. Swcetser, 127, 293 (577). 
• Swiss, 138. Sylvester, 520. Symonds, 529. 
Snyder, 100. 

Tagart, 553. Taintor, 198. Tanner, 639. 
Tate, 583. Tatum, 520. Taylor, 168, 295, 
344. •52*>i 609. TeRetmcier, 531, 534, 542-3, 
558, 599 (v.). Teller, 196. " Telzah," 102, 
179,506,575,673. Tennyson, 673. Terront, 
4, 547. Terry, 626-7. Thatcher, 400. Thayer, 
576,672. Theodore, 611. Thomas, 244,400, 
546,646. Thompson, 202, 206, 216, 55^, 561, 
663. Thomson, 646. Thorbum, 599. Thome, 
559-60. Thomfeldt, 562, 565, 696. Tibbils 
(131). Tibbs, 330, 631, 646, 669. Tichener, 
218. Ticknor, 293. Tift, hvy. Tilden, 79 
(464). Timms, 504. Tinker, 680. Tisdale, 

635. " Titanambungo," 535. Titus, 658. To- 
bias, 646, "679." Todd, 589, 646 (633). 
Tolstoi, 7:9. Tonkin, 562. Tonnet, 699. 
ToBcani, 700. Tough, 652. Townsend, 669. 
Townson, 646. Tracy, 505. TrigweU, 540. 
Trocdel, 696. Trow, 100. " Tulkinghom," 
466. Tupper,7a8. Turner, 558. Tun;eneff, 
728. Turrell, 646. Twain, iv., 356, 640W 
"Twiddle," 506. Twiss, 138. Tyler, laS, 
«35. »38, •«49, 510, 581, •627. 

Upham, 112-13, 578, 655. Upstill, 56a. 
Undercuffler, 387. Under^'ood, 508. Ure, 

Vail, 171. Vanderbilt, 33, 156, 185. Van- 
derveer, 90. Van Loan, 187. Van Sicklen, 
321, 519, •627, 675 (630). VarJet, 651. Var- 
ley, 646. Vamey (257, 274). Vaux, 95, 666. 
"Velox," 688. Verhoeff, •235. Vermeule, 
176. Victoria, 471. Viele, 94. Viltard, 651. 
"Viola," 439. Viollet, 698. "Virginia," 44a. 
Virtue, 570. Vivian, 322. Vogel, 552. "Von 
Twillcr," 433. 

Wade, 646. Wagner, 80. Waite (464, 726). 
Wainwright, 625 (597). Wales, 93, 94, 469-70^ 
Walker, 112-13, 559, 562, 646, 651, 679, 697. 
Wallace. 609. WaUer, 4, 547 (i3o). WaUey 
(372). Wallis,646. Walmcsly, 554. Walter- 
mire, 49a. Wapple, 489. Warburton, 543. 
Ward, 658 (730). Waring, 553. Wame, 685. 
Warner, 286, 646, 683. Warren, 55S. Wash- 
ington, 25, 72, 74, 77, "7, 143, 163, 171, 186, 
i97i 350, 367. 39', 434, 702. Wassung, 643. 
Waterljouse, 557,627. Waterman, 516, 559. 
Watson, 112, 154, 554. Way, 635. Way- 
mouth, 646. Wayne, 389, 609. " Wealthy," 
506. Webb, 352, 554. Webber, 655, *674-5. 
Weber, 351-2, 629, 675. Webster, 320- Wedg- 
wood, 470. Weitz, 315. Welch, 628 (294, 
401). Welford, 570, 644, 687-S, 691. WeUs, 
6a8. Wenley,646. Went worth, 631. West, 
320, 325. Weston, 504, 643-4, 646, •656-7, 
663-4,676-7,712. Westbrook, 634. Wester- 
velt, 114, 182-3, 321. Wetmore(i75). Whar- 
low, ^543. Whatton, "544, 646. Wheatley, 
599. Wheeler, 650, 655, 666-7, 674. Wheler, 
3S5. Whipple, ir4, 182-3. Wlntall, 520. 
Whitcomb, 592. White, 201, 244, 526, 559, 
598, 674 (238-9). Whiting, •! 38-9, 676. Wig- 
glesworth, 646. Wilcox, 666 (94, 702). Wild, 
542. Wilkinson, 677, 210, 628. William, 723. 
Williams, 95. 185, 316, 530, 558, 577, •582, 
652, 673, 693 (107, 258, 272, 275-*, 45»)- Will- 
iamson, 684. WiUiaon,638. Willoughby, 570, 



fc»7. Wilson, loo, 38a, 525, 534, 558, 690, 693 
(294). Winchell, 114. Winthrop, 429, 431, 
439.443.610. Wistor, 627(354). Witty, 400, 
Wood, 158, 172, 175, 177, 317, 377-8, 383, 
•j88^, 400, 498» 562, 584. S93» 625, '627,675-7 
{644). Woodburn,658. Woodman, 530. Wood- 
roofe, 635. Woodruff, 334. Woods, 646. 
Woodside, 499, 675. Woodward, 198. Wool- 
worth, 148. Worraley, 241. Worth, 390, 
609. Wragge, 560. Wright, 18, 23, 93, ^628, 

I 643, 646, 660, 665, 674, 677. 

I Xmophon viii. 

TappleweU, 538. Yates, •519-30 (386). 

^ Yopp, 638. "Yorick," 402. Yorke, 687. 

Young, 105, '535, •556, 575, 646, 655, 679, 686. 
Yoongman (387). 

7jM*harlM, 713 (170-1. i74f 192-3)- ^^h, 
333. Zimmerman, 638. Zmertych, 551. Zu- 

i bowite, 558. 

I Contributors* Rbcords. 

(Mrs.) J. H.Allen, 354. E. Ash, 564. B. 

B. Ayere, •518. G. W. Baker, •487. A. 

B. Barkman, •530. E, G. Bamett, 345. H. 
Barthol, 551-2. J. M. Barton, 201. A. 
Bas««, •sss- C. D. Batchelder, 575-6. L. 
J. Bates, 505-6. J. W. Bell, •sag. P- L. 
Benihard, 154 W. Binns, •543. R. O. 
Bishop, 563. H. Bkickwell, 554. J. L. 

j Bley, •493. A. M. Bolton, 549, 6S3. W. 

Bowies, •546. W. J. Bowman, 492. G. L. 

I Bridgraan, •550. C. P. Brigham, 377. G. 

R. Broatlbcnt, 562. F. W. Brock, 545. J. 
W. M. Brown, •537. G. L. Budds, 565. H. 
(illan. •545- W. W. Canfield, 215. W. 
CoUios, •128, 138. J. K. and T. B. Con- 
way, 553, 557. F. R. Cook, •493. J. Cop- 

I land, •564-5. E. H. Corson, 525, 577. H. 

C. Courtney, 544- M, W. Couscr, •197. W. 
I F. Grossman, 376. R. C. Cox, 560-1. J. G. 
I Dalton, •504. W. W. Darnell, •244. P. C. 

Darrow, xcii. S. H. Day, •512. J. S. 
j Dean, 526. P. E. DooHttle, •319. B. W. 

Doughty, 154- J. D. Dowling, •521. S. B. 
' Downey, 389. F. E. Drullard, 574. H. E. 

Ducker, •524. A. Edwards, 565. F. A. El- 
I dred, •377. H. Etherington, •546-8. W. 

P. Evans. 378. I. K. Falconer, 555. W. 

Farrington, 517. H. C. Finkler, 489-92. G. 

F, Ftske, 113, 142, •522. J. Fitton, 567-8. 

W. T. Fleming, 245, 500. L. Fletcher, 554, 

557. C. E. Gates, 587. A. Gault, 560-1. 

W. V. Gilman, •507- S. Goldcr, 551. C. 

M. Goodnow, 527. H. R. Goodwin, •336-7, 
554. C. H. R. Gossett, 554. L. B. Graves, 
1 14. T. F. Hallaro, 563. H. B. Hart, 526. 
A. Hayes, •540-1. F. D. Hclmer, 216. E. 

A. Hemenway,*5i7. C. H. Hepinstall,3i4. 
W. E. Hicks, 528. H. J. High, •485. C. 
Howard, *sio. W. Hume, 561. H. Jarvis, 
•4S6. F. Jenkins, ^187. F. M. S. Jenkins, 
•327. 330- H. J. Jenkins, 568. H. J. Jones, 
•538-40. J. T. Joslin, •197. C. D. Ker- 
shaw, 526. R. Ketcham, •197. A. J. Kolp, 
•340. I. J. Kusel, •524. W. H. Langdown, 
569-70. C. Langley, •530. J. Lennox, 554-5. 

B. Lewis, •524. C. H. Lyne, 565-6, 696. J. 
D. Macaulay, •527. R. H. McBride, 319. 
G. P. MacGowan, 197. T. R. Marriott, 
554-5. 557- E. Mason, •523. R. D. Mead, 
•509. G. B. Mercer, 553, 557. F. T. Merrill, 
49a. T. Midgely, •513-15. A. E. Miller, 
344. G. P. Mills, •555-8. A. Nixon, 554.5. 
J. F. Norris, 567. H. C. Ogden, 198. A. 
H. Padman, 560-1. W. B. Page, ^494-9, 
573-8. R. W. Parmenter, 488. G. L. Par- 
meley, 579. A. S. Parsons, •516. E. F. 
Peavey, 576. J. and E. R. Pennell, 530. 
W. L. Perham, •sis. R. E. Phillips, ^550. 

C. E. Pratt, •sos. H. R. Reynolds, jr., 
•533-4- A. C. Rich, 193. E. and W. Rideout, 
•491. A. E. Roberts, 563. R. P. H. Rob- 
erts, 541. S. Roether, 315. A. S. Roorbach, 
164. W. Rose, 489. T. Rothe, •sis. P. 
Rousset, ^552. J. F. Rugg, 565. G. H. 
Rushworlh, •545. T. S, Rust, 138. F. Sals- 
bury, 544. E. E, Sawtell, '377. L. W. 
Seely, 348-9- M. T. Shafer, 216. F. W. 
Sherburne, 578. H. P. and G. H. Shimmin, 

561. E. R. Shiplon, 691. T. B. Somers, 

•520. S. G. Speir, . C. Spencer, 554. 

J. W. Stephenson, ^529. G. T. Stevens, 551. 
T. Stevens, •473-84, 570-2. H. Sturmey, 
548-9. F. O. Swallow, 128. F. P. Sy- 
monds, 529. J. E. R. Tagart, 553. (J. J. 
Taylor, •520. E. Tegetmeier, 531-3. G. B. 
Thayer, 576. R. Tliompson, 216. R. A. 
andT. H.Thompson, 561. M. Thonifeldt, 

562, 565-6, 696. C. E. Tichener, 218. N. 
P. Tyler, 128, 138-9, ^Mg, •sio. N. H. Van 
Sicklen,5i9. J. M. Verhoeff, ^235-7. J. S. 
Whalton, •544. H. T. Whailow, •543. J. 
H. Whiting, 138. F. E. Van Meerbeke. 
xcv. H. & W. J. Williams, 316. H. W. 
Williams, •511-12. W. W. Williams, 5^8. 
A. J. Wilson, •534-5. H. S. Wood, •388. 


C. C. Woolworth, •148. F. E. Yates, •519. 
A. Young, *%^S' I- Zmertych, 551. 

Journalism op thb Wheel. 
The history of cycling journals and books 
may be found between p. 653 and p. 700, and 
most of the following references are within 
those limits, — fuU-faced type showing the 
more-important ones : 

Algemeine Sport-Zeitung(Ger.), 697. Ama- 
teur Athlete (N. Y), 619-20, 667-8. Ameri- 
can Bicycling Journal, 26, 504, 534, 643, 66i>-6, 
664, 687, 725. American Wheelman (St. 
Louis), 528, 654, 671-2, 716, 799. Archery & 
Tennis News, 663, 668. Archery Field (Bos- 
ton), 658-9, 663, 668-9. Athletic Nevk-s(Eng.), 
693. Athletic News & Cyclists* Journal 
(Eng.), 638. Athletic World (Eng.), 688. 
Australasian, 696. Australian Cycling News 
(Melbouroe), 558, 562-5, 652, 654, 665-6, 
706. Australian Cyclist (Sydney), 564, 686. 
Australian Sports & Pastimes, 696. Bicy- 
cle (Hamilton, Ont.), 66r. Bicycle (Mel- 
bounie), 695. Bic>'cle (.Montgomery, Ala.), 
660, 670. Bicycle (N. Y.), 660. Bicycle & 
Tricycle Gazette (Eng.), 638. Bicycle Ga- 
zette (Eng.), 688. Bicycle Herald (Spring- 
field, Ms.), 672. Bicycle Journal (Eng.), 
687-8. Bicycler's Record (I.awrence, Ms.), 

660. Bicycle Rider's Magazine (Eng.), 688. 
Bicycle South (New Orleans), 654, 670, 67a. 
Bicycling New.s(Eng.), 541-2, 544, 548-9. S57i 
683, 687-8, 689-80, 693-5. Bicycling Times 
& Touring Gazette (Eng.), 547-8, 688, 692. 
Bicycling World (Boston), 23, 27-9, 74, 92, 
101-2, 104-5, io7i m> iM> 121, 128, 150, 152, 
157, 161-2, 164, 171, 179, 181, 199,202, 214,217, 
238, 249, 251, 253, 281, 314, 322, 340, 487-9, 
492-3, 500, 503-4, 506, 50S-12, 514, 5»7-»8, 
522, 525-6, 530, 553, 573» 575-6, 578, 591, 600, 
602-4, 615-18, 629, 643-4, 656-9, 662-5, 666-7, 
669,671-2, 673, 67s, 677-80, 683-6, 684-5, 702, 
704, 798. California Athlete (San Francisco), 

661, 688. Canadian Wheelman (London, 
Ont.), 315. 3i9» 32». 326, 599, 635, 643, 654, 
660, 669-70, 707. Cleveland Mercury (O.), 
660. Cycle (Milford, Ms.), 660, 666, 678. 
Cycle (Boston), 664-5, 798. Cycling (Cleve- 
kind), 245. 526, 660. Cycling (Eng.), 6SR-9, 

691. Cycling Budget (Eng.), . Cycling 

Times (Eng.), 6S6, 689, 798. Cyclist (Eng.), 
534, 537. 54", 548-9, 55»-*. 5S4» S68, 599, 684, 
687-94. Cyclista (Hun.), 697, Cycliste Beige 

(Bel.), 70a Cyclist & Athlete (N. Y.), 663. 
666, 668-9. C. T. C Gazette (Eng.), S99. 
63M4, 651-2, 687-S, 691, 694-5, 798. Cydos 
(Eng.), 688. Elizabeth Wheelmen (N. J.). 
660. Field (Eng.), 531. Hamilton Bicyde 
(Ont.), 661. Hamilton Wheel Journal (O.), 
660. Illustrated Sports (Eng.), 695. Ingle- 
side (San Francisco), 609, 661, 672. Irish 
Cycling & Athletic News (Dublin), 654, 695. 
Irish Cyclist & Athlete (Dublin), 640, 652. 
654, 685. Ixion (Eng.), 688. Journal des 
Sports (Bel.), 700. Land & Water (Eng.), 
642, 695. L. A. W. Bulletin (Phila.), 310-11, 
323, 388, 500, 572, 578, 583-90, 594, 614, 618, 
620-21, 624-6, 629-30, 633, 635, 654, 661, 
662, 665, 668, 674, 679, 707-8, 717, 720. 
M aandblad (Dutch), 700. Maine Wheel, 66 1. 
Mechanic (Smithville, N. J.), 522, 577, 671. 
Melbourne Bulletin (Yict.), 696. Midland 
Athletic Star & Cycling Nci»"s (Eng.), 6S8, 
695. Mirror of American Sports (Chicago), 
672. Monthly Circular of C. T. C. (Eog.). 
636, 691. N. C. U. Review (Eng.), 648, 650. 
New Haven Bicycle Herald, 660.' N. t. 
Referee, 696. Olympia (Eng.) . Out- 
ing (Boston), 105, 108, 114, 121, 149, 198, 244, 
279, 282, 320, 323, 330, 474-8, 481-4, 504, 5o<>. 
511, 512, 526, 534, 599, 600, 657-9, 674-5, 
678. Outing (N. Y.), 57». 655, 669.60, 668. 
Pacific Wheelman (San Francisco), 67a, 799. 
Pastime Gazette (Chicago), 672. Philadel- 
phia Cycling Record, 245, 485, 522, 526, 660, 
674. Radfahrer (Ger.), 552, 651, 6$6.7, 798. 
Recreation (Newark), 600, 654, 663,668-9. 

Referee (Eng.), . Revue V^locip^dtque 

(Fr.), 698. Revista Velocipedistica (It.), 700. 
Revista degli Sports (It.), 700. Scottish Ath- 
letic Journal, 695. Scottish Umpire & Cy- 
cling Mercury (Glasgow), 695. Southern Cy- 
cler (Memphis, Tcnn.), 654, 670, 672, 707. 
Spectator (St. Louis). 323, 672. Sport (/r.), 
695. Sport (It.), 70a Sport & Play (Eng.X 
695. Sport du Midi, 699. Sporting & 
Theatrical Journal and Western Cycler (Chi- 
cago), 672. Sporting Life (Eng.), 693. Sport- 
ing Life (Phila), 666, 672. Sporting Mirror 
(Eng.), 689. Sportsman (Pittsburg), 67a. 
Sportsman (Eng.), 686. Sport V^ocipMique 
(Fr.), 651, 69S. Springfield Wheelmen's G». 
zette, 42, 64, 129, 255, 294, 323, 333. 353. 37«. 
39I1 485. 487, 49«. 49'i 5o'*» 5«9, 524. 5S8, 6oj, 
605. 610, 660, 661-2, 668, 676, 693, 706-7. 
Siahlrad (Ger.), 70a SUr Advocate (E. Rocb- 



eiter, N. H.), SaS, 579, 654-5. «©•!» 707. 
Seed Wheel (Ger.), 70a Tidniog for Idrott 
<Swe.), 7«>- Tireur (Fr.), 69^ Tricycling 
Jcmrnal (Eng.), 545* 600, 654, 685-6» <t90-l. 
Tricydist (Eng.), 543-4, 547. 555. 654, 686, 
010,692. V<cio(Fr.),699. Viloco (Fr.), 699. 
Vfloc2 Beige (Bel.), 699. Vfloceman (Fr.), 
69>. Vaocc Sport (Fr.), 699. V^locc Sport 
et Vdloceman R^uinis, xcH. Velociped (Ger.)> 
6$i, 697. V^locipMe (Grenoble, Fr.), 699. 
V£odplHlc (Paris, Fr.), 698. VdlodpMe 11- 
Iintri (Fr.), 6>8. V<Slocip^dIe Beige (Bel.), 
699. V^ocip<Sdis Illustrie (Fr.), 69S. Ve- 
lodpedisi (N. Y.), 698. Vclocipedist (Ger.), 
697. Velodpedsport (Ger.), 697, 699. Veloci- 
pedo (Sp.), 700. Vd'.o Pyrdn^n (Fr.), 651, 
699. Vermont Bicycle (W. Randolph), 578, 
654,973. Vitesse (Fr.), 699. Wayfarer (Eng.), 
«di. Western 'Cyclist (Ovid, Mich.), 660, 
669, 67*. Wheel (N. v.), 53, 74, 93, 96, 109, 
114, laS, xjS, 154, 161, 164, 187, I97.*»5iai7. 
M4. 3»o. 326, 34if 3S2, 4871 489. 492-3, 500. 
5M. 504, 5 » 7. 523. 529* 568, 574-5. 583, 5S5A 
589-90, 604-7. 619, O43, 666-7, 669, 699, 704-5, 
707, 70S, 713, 79> Wheeling (Eng.), 524, 
538, M7-S, 5S3-5i 564. 572, 6q2, 6a8-9, 639.41, 
647-5 1, 662, 6S3-4. 636, 699-90, 693-5, 700, 
707, 719. 79S. Wheel Life (Eng.), 690-92, 
694, 706. Wheelman (Boston), t, 34-5, 30, 
13. 35-6, 42, 49, 62, 82, 106, IIS, 139-40, 155. 
159^ 3o8-9, 334, 346. 255, 258, 268, 270, 277, 
279,396,314,348, 388, 390, 399, 495. 504, 
506-7, 5»2-i5, 5«7-*8, 522-3, 555. 631, 656-9, 
661, 673, 679, 69s, 697, 702, 703, 720. Wheel- 
men's Gazette (Springfield), 558, 559, 561, 
566, 579, 617-18, 619, 631, 654, 662, 674, 
706-7, 708-10, 799. Wheelmen's Record 
(Indianapolis), xcii. Wheel World (Eng.), 
3X>, 475. 548, 647, 657, 685, 688, 689-91, 692, 
694, 798. Vale Cyclist, 660. 

Editors^ -xxfriterSt artidi^ publishers and 
fruiters 0/ the foregoing : American News 
Co., 660, 669. G. Atkinson, 693. J. De* 
Arie»te,xcii. J. W. Auten, 668. H. C. 
Bagot, 6^/6. Baird & Co., 668. H. S. Bale, 
696. J. W. Barnes, 66S-9. H. A. Barrow, 
689. R. B.i&i!onc, 700. A. Bassett, 663-5, 
T04, 70S. L. J. Bates, 506, 657, 673. S. 
Baxter, 600, 657. N. M. Bcckwith, 666-7. 
B. Benjamin, 661. Bicycling World Co., 664, 
685. C. A. Bicderman, 661. P. Bigelow, 
657-9. B. Bonami, 697. J. S. Brierley, 669. 
W. A. Bryant, 667. E. H.Bum,695. (Miss) 

M. H. Catherwood, 657. Central Press & 

Pub. Co., 666. Chatto & Windus, . B. 

Clegg,689. W.F.Coffee, jr., 668. W.Cole, 
650. E. R. Collins, 668-9. J. Copland, 696. 
C. Cordingley, 691. Cordingley & Sharp, 691. 
E. H. Corson, 6;^>-i. Cycling Pub. Co., 
666-7. Cyclist Printing Co., 668. P. C. & 
G. S. Darrow, xcii. J. S. Dean, 663-4. E. 
De GJiue, 700. P. De VilJi5rs, 699. J. B. 
Dignain, 669. B. W. Dinsmorc & Co., 666. 
C. R. Dodge, 657. H. B. Donly, 669. H. 
E. Ducker, 661-3, 706-7. H. O. Duncan, 699. 
C. Drury, 688. W. G. Eakins, 669. T. A. 
Edwards, 695-6. F. A. Egan, 667. A. Ely, 
jr., 660. H. Etherington, 6S9-90, 693-3. 
Evangelist Co., 673. W. K. Evans, 669. V. 
Fenoglio, 700. C. H. Fisher, 660. Fleming, 
Brewster & Alley, 657. E. Foreslier, 69S. 
S. C. Foster, 667. C. W. Founlrinier, 663, 
665. C. J. Fox, 688, 693. T. F. Garrett, 
6SS. C. H. Genslingcr, 670. A. Gibbons, 691. 
A. H. Gibbes, 668. W. E. Gilman, 663-5. 
W. V. Gilman, 666. P. GomaJl, 696. H. 
H. Griflin, 6^9-90. L. Harrison, 663-4, C. 
E. Hawley, 65S. Hay, Ntsbet & Co., 695. 
G. L. Hillier, 547-8, 689-90, 693-4. E. C. 
Hodges St Co., 664. J. G. Hodgins, 695. 
J. R. Hogg, 628, 695. C. J. Howard, 666-7. 
W. B. Howland, 656-9. E. W. Hunter, 670. 
Iliffe & Son, 548, 689-93. Iliffi & Stur- 
mey, 690. J. Inwards, 689. L. G. Jacques, 
698. F. Jenkins, 666-7, 704-8. H. A. Judd, 
689, 693. H. A. King, 673. W. C. King, 
698. K. Kron, 720. D. M. Kurtr, 668. L. 
C. S. Ladish, 671. C. Langer, 697. P. B. 
Lansing, 656. M. Lazare, 666. W. H. 
Lewis, 653, 696. E. A. Lloyd, 690. F. P. 
Low, 548, 6S9-90, 693. S. Low, Marston & 
Co., 659. W. McCandlish, 6S9-90. J. F. 
McClure, 656 9. S. S. Mcaure, 656-9. J.C. 
McKcnzic, 660. G. D. McNathan,67o. R. 
J. Macredy, 653, 695. W. McWilliam, 548, 
689, 693. C. O. Manny, 666. W. C. Mar- 
vin, 660. C. L. Meyers, 668. S. Miles, 673. 
G. Moore, 692. T. Moore, 548, 6S9-90, 693. 
A. G. Morrison, 690, 693. F. X. Miidd, 660. 
A. Mudge & Son, 663-4. C. W. Nairn, 6S9-90, 
693. H. E. Nelson, 660. E. Diver, 666. 
W. N. Oliver & Co. , 666. Oliver & Jenkins, 
666-7. M- M. Oj^bome, 660. Outing Co., 
659. H. Pagis, 698. F. Pagnioud, 699. A. 
Paritschke, 697. S. M. Pallon, 670. R. L. 
Philpol, 650. J. S. Phillips, 656-9. Picker- 


ing & Davis, 69S. R. H. Polk, 660. A. A. 
Pope, 659. Pope Mfg. Co., 657-9. C. E. 
Pratt, 656^, 663-4, 667. F. P. Prial, 666. 
C. W. Reed, 655, 658. C. S. Reeves, 660. 
F. M. Riitiuger, 697. Rockwell & ChurchiH, 
656. J. S. Rogers, 671. T. Roosevelt, 657, 
660. £. J. Schmied, 697. E. R. Sliipton, 691. 
V. Silbjrer, 697. C. B. Smith, 691. C. F. 
Smith, xcii. J. T. Smith, 671. H. B. Smith 
Machine Co., 671. Springfield Print. Co.,66i- 
2, 675. W. J. Spurrier, 6S8. T. Stevens, 655. 
W. F. Stone, 661. H. Sturmsy, 690, 692 . L. 
Suberbic, 699. W. L. Surprise, 670. L. P. 
Thayer, 672. W. H. Thompson, 663. H. S. 
Tibbs, 669. C. Toscani, 700. Tonnet, 699. 
C. H. Townsend, 669. C. Troedel & Co., 
696. T. H. S. Walker, 697. W. D. Wel- 
ford, 6S8, 691. F. W. Weston, 653, 655, 
663.4. A. D. Wheeler, 666-7. Wheelman 
Co., 656-8. Wheel Pub. Co., 666. J. Wjl- 
cox, 666. B. Williams, 693. A. J. Wilson, 
690,673. W. M. Wright, 660, 665. Vaux& 
Co., 666. 

" Literature of the Wheel," 058-700. 
A. B. C. of Bicycling, 655, 67S. Abridg- 
ment of Velocipede Specifications, 550. Ad- 
vantages of Cycling, 67S. Agent's Guide, 
The, 679, 6S5. Almanach des V^locipMes 
for '69, 69S. Almanach du Vdlocipide for 
'70-'7i| 698. Almanach Illusir^de la Veloci- 
p^dic pour '84, 699. Amateur Bicycle Re- 
pairing, 678. American Bicycler, The, 504, 

672, 703. Annuaire de la Vdlocipidie Pra- 
tique, 699. Around the World on a Bicycle, 
474» 655, 657, 698. Athletes, Training for 
Amateur, 684. Athletic Club Directory for 
'82,688. Australian Cyclists' Annual, The, 
696. Australian Tour on Cycles, An, 565, 
696. Autograph Book, Palmer's, 687. Bet- 
ting I^aw, Cyclists* Liabilities as regards the, 
685. Bicycle Annual for '80, Tlie, 686, 692. 
Bicycle-Buch, 697. Bicycle for '74, The, 687. 
Bicycle, The Modern, 685. Bicycle, A 
Pocket Manual of the, 687. Bicycle Primer, 
679. Bicycle Ride from Russia, A, 6S7. Bi- 
cycle Road Book, 685. Bicycle Tactics, 615, 
679. Bicycle Tour in England and Wales, A, 

673. Bicycling, Complete Guide 10,684. Bi- 
cyclists' Pocket-Book and Diary for '78, 687. 
Blank Road-Rook, 676. Boston Road-Book, 
655. British Hijjh Roads, 686. Bugle Calls, 
679. Bundes-AImanach, 697. Canadian W. 

A. Guide, 315-6, 319, 326-7, 330-x, 655, 677. 
Canterbury Pilgrimage, A, 530, 655, 687. 
Cape Ann, In and Around, 655, 674. Chest- 
nuts (If ^^//x^'j Christmas issue of '86), . 

Clipper Almanac, 494, 680. Club Directory, 
Goy's Athletic, 688. Club Songs, 655. Co- 
lumbia Calendars, 679-80. Columbia Testr 
roonials and Scrap Book, 678. Connecticut 
Road-Book, 5S2, 677. Construction of Mod- 
ern Cycles, On the, 683. Construction of the 
Tricycle, A Treatise on the Theoretical and 
Practical, 683. C. T. C Handbook and 
Guide for '86, 598-9, 607, 687. C. T. C. 
Renewals-List for '85, 687. Cycle Directory, 
The,687. Cycledom ( Cyclist*s Christmas issue 
of »86), xciv. Cyclist and Wheel World An- 
nual, 69a. Cyclists' Guide to Nottingham, 
6S5. Cyclist's Guide to the Roads of the 
Lake District and Isic of Man, 6S7. Cy- 
clist's Pocket-Book and Diary, 685. Cyclists, 
The Rights and Liabilities of, 684. Cyclists' 
Route Book, The, 684. Cyclist's Touring 
and Road Guide, The, 684, 685. Cydonia, A 
Jouniey through {CyclisCs Christmas issue of 
'^5)1 534» 692. Cyclos, 684. Dublin, A Racing 
Trip to, xciv. Emerald Isle, Two Trips to 
the, xciv. England and Wales, A Bicycle 
Tour in, 673. Essai th^orique et pratique sur 
le vtfhicule Bicycle, 698. Essex Co., Ms., 
Wheelman's Handbook of, 112, 655, 677. 
Forty Poets on the Wheel, 505, 655, 674. 
France, Le Guide en, 699. Golden Rules of 

Training, The, 685. Great S , The (C>- 

r//r^'f Christmas issue of '85), 692. Guard- 
ians, The, 688. Guide to Bicycling, The 
Complete, 684. Guide to Machines and 
Makers, xcv. Guide to North- West Kent, 

686. Guide to Tricycling, Penny, 686. Hand- 
buch des Bicycle-Six>rt, 697. Health upon 
Wheels, 684. He would be a Bic>'clist, 688. 
Holland, N. V. B. Official Road-book of, 
700. Holyhead to London on Tricycles, 
From, 686. How to ride a Cycle, 684. Hotel 
Charges Directory, 685. Hygiene du V^lod- 
pide. 698. Icycles {Wheel World's Christ- 
mas issue of '80), 692. In and Around Cape 
Ann, 655, 674. Indispensable Bicyclist's 
Handbook, The, 685. I nstructions to Wheel- 
men, 678. Itiliani, Statute della Sodeta 
Ciclisti, 700. Italy on a Tricycle, Through, 

687. Ireland, Two Trips to, . Kentucky 

Road-Book, 590, 678. Killamey, A Touring 
Trip to, . Lake District and the Isle of 



Mao, Road Guide for the, 687. Land's End 
to John 0'Groat*s on a Tricycle, 685. League 
Handbooks, '81 and *87, 625, 677. Legal 
Aspects of Road Repair, 650. Letters of In- 
terest to Wheelmen, 678. Library of Sports 
(Cycling), 6S5. Log Book, My Cycling, 676. 
Long Island Road- Book, 655. Liverpool Cy- 
dists* Podcet Guide and Club Directory for 
'85, 686. Lyra Bicyclica, 505, 655, 674. Man- 
uel da V^loceman, 698. Manuel du V^loci- 
pMe, 69S. Massachusetts State Division 
Road Book, 581, 677. Mechanical Diction- 
ary, 6SS. Michigan Road-book, 677. Mis- 
souri Handbook, 677. Modern Bicycle, The, 
685. Modern Cycles, On the Construction 
o{, 683. Modern Velocipede, The, 688. My 
Cycling Friends, 68 7. My Cycling Log Book, 
670. My Second Ten Thousand, an, 501, 
S90, 716. Nauticus in Scotland, 6S4. Naiiti- 
cns on bis Hobby- Horse, xctv. Nervous- 
ness, How I Cured Myself of, 688. Notting- 
ham, Cyclists' Guide to, 68$. Official Hand- 
book of the Clubs of Essex, 6S7. Ocean to 
Ocean on a Bicycle, From, xdv. Ohio Road- 
Book,677,682. On Wheels, 688. Our Camp 
(CycUsCs Christmas issue of '84), 692. Over- 
land to Sydney on Cycles, 565, 696. Over the 
Handles, 673. Over the Pyrenees on a Bicy- 
de, 549, 683. Paris, Guide des Environs de, 
699. Pleasures of Cycling, xciv. Pocket Di- 
rectory, The Scottish A. C, 686. Pocket 
Manual of the Bicycle, A, 687. Pocket Road 
Guides, 550. Pope, Biography of A. A., 

680. Radfahrer's Jahrbuch, 697. Record 
Book for Tourists, 676. Repair and Mainte- 
nance of Roads, 650. Repairing of Bicycles 
by Amateurs, 67S. Report of the " Socidt^ 
Pratique du ViElocipide " for '69, 698. Rhine, 
Handbook for Wheelmen along the, 697. 
Rhymes of the Road and River, 655, 674. 
Rights and Liabilities of Cyclists, 684. Road 
and the Roadside, llie, 680. Road Book of 
C. T. C, Proposed, 687. Road Guide to the 
Southern Counties of Scotland, 686. Road 
Repair, 696. Roads of England (Cary's), 68 1. 
Roads of England (Howard's), 550, 681-2. 
Roads of England (Patcrson's), 532, 539-40, 

681. Romances of the Wheel, 6S5. Rota 
Vitae, 6S5. Route Book, The Cyclist's, 684. 
Russia, A Bicycle Ride from, 687. Safety 
Bicycles, 684. Scotland, Cyclist's Itinerary 
of. 550. Scotland, Nauticus in, 684. Scot- 
land, Road Guide to the Southern Counties 

of, 686. Scottish A. C. Pocket Directory, 
The, 686. Sel f Propulsion, 683. Sixty Poets 
on the Wheel, 674. Song of the Wheelist, 
The, 686. South Africa, A Tour in, 696. 
Southern Counties Camp Book, 686. Star 
Rider's Manual, 655, 671. Steel Wings, 674. 
Suggestions for Choice, Care and Repair of 
Bicycles and Tricycles, 67S. Ten Thousand 
Miles on a Bicycle, 45, 48, 353, 370, 426, 
483-4, 655, 701-33. Theoric du VdlocipMe, 

698. Things a Cyclist Ought to Know, 55a 
Tour de Monde en V^locipMe, Le, 698. 
Tourists' Guide, 684. Tourists, Rights and 
Liabilities of, 685. Trade catalogues and 
advertisements, 653, 679-80. Training for 
Amateur Athletes, 684. Training Instructor, 
The, 686. Tricycle Annual, 685. Tricycle 
and Tricycling, The, 686. Tricycle et Vdloci- 
pMe k Vapeur, 698. Tricycle, In Relation 
to Health and Recreation, 685. Tricycle, 
Land's End to John O'Groai's on a, 685. 
Tric)'cle, Through Italy on a, 687. Tricycle, 
A Treatise on the Theoretical and Practical 
Construction of the, 683. Tricycles and How 
to Ride Them, 686. Tricycles, From Holy- 
head to London on, 686. Tricycling, Cor- 
dingley's Penny Guide to, 686. Tricycling 
for Ladies, 684. Tricyclisl's Indispensable 
Annual & Handbook, 684. Tricyclist's Vade 
Mecum, The, 686. Two Pilgrims* Progress, 
687. Vade Mecum du Touriste V^lciceman, 

699. Vade Mecum, The Tricyclisl's, 686. 
Vdlocipfede, Lc, 698. Velocipede Specifica- 
tions, Abridgment of, 550. Velocipede, The, 
402, 673. Velocipede, The, 688. Veloci- 
pedes, 688. Velocipcdia, 688. Vdlocip^die 
Pratique, La, 699. Velocipedislen-Jahrbuch 
for '84, 697. Western Adventures of a Bicy- 
cle Tourist, 489. Western New York Road- 
Book, 22 r. Westward, Ho! on a Sociable, 
687. What and Why, 678. Wheelman's 
Annual for '81 and '82, 16, 673, 707. Wheel- 
man's Hand-book of Essex Co., 1 12, 655, 677. 
Wheelman's Log Book for '8r, 677. Wheel- 
man's Record Book, 677. Wheelman's Ref- 
erence Book, 615, 655, 67s, 710. Wheelman's 
Year Book, The, 686. Wheelman's Year 
Book, Diary and Almanack for '82, 687. 
Wheel Songs, 655, 674. Wheels and Whims, 
655, 674- Whrel IVorl^s Annuals, "69a. 
Whiriing Wheels, 673. Whiaz, The, 688. 
World on Wheels, The, 680. Year's Sport, 
The, 687. 


. A HiMartt compilers, ^uNishers andprmtert 
cfth* foregoing: K. Allier, 698. A. I*. At- 
kins, 111,65s, 677. Ballantyne Press, The, 
6S6. A. B. Uarkman, 655. C. D. Batchelder, 

676. E. Benassit, 69S. A. Berruyer, 698. C. 
H. Bingham, 700. A. M. Bolton, 549, 683. 
G. F. Brooks, 679. J. S. Browning, 655. C. 
W. Bryan & Co., 700. H. Buchanan, 6S6. 
W. S. Bull , 22 1 , 677. J. P. Burbank, 16, 673 . 

677. (Lord) Bury, 6S7. Cassell & Co., 687. 
A. D. Chandler, 673. G. Chin n, 655,677. J. 
C. Clark, 679. R. Clarke & Co., 678. W. 
Coliins, Sou & Co., 683. R. Cook, 6S7. 
C. Cordinghy, 636. H. D. Corey, 679. E. 
H. Corson, 655, 671. H. L. Cortis, 684. T. 
Coventry & Co. , 683. Cunningham Co., Tlie, 
653,679. Cupples, Upham & Co., 655. J. 
G. Dalton, 505, 655. A. De BaronccUi, 688, 
69S-9. W. Diidarich, 679. H. B. Douly,655, 
677. Ducker& Goodman, 615,655, 675. N. 
F. Duncan, 687. Durrant & Co., 687. G. 
Ernst, 697. (Miss) F. J. Erskine, 6S4. U. 
Etheriugton, 685. Falconer, 686. A. Favre, 
698. S. C. Foster, 655, 674, 679, C. J. Fox, 
686. S. Fusse.l, 685. J. T. Goddard, 402, 
673, 683. Goy, 638. L. U. Gill, 683. H. 
H. Griffin, 683. Griffith & Farran, 685. 
Hamilton, Adams & Co., 6S7. Hammer- 
smith Printing Works, 686. £. S. Hart & 
Co., 655, 674. H. B. Hart, 655, 660, 678. 
J. R. Heard, 679. W. H. Heath, 685. A. 
S. Hibbard, 655, 674. G. L. Hillier, 687. E. 
C. Hodges & Co., 674. C. Howard, 550, 63 1. 
C. Hubbard, 696. C. G. Huntington, 582, 

677. Iliffe & Son, 683-7. " Ixion," 688. 
L. G. Jacques, 698. Jacquot, 699. Jarrold 
& Son, 683. F. Jenkins, 677. J. H. John- 
son, 677. F. W. Jones, 683-4. H. A. Judd, 
685. " Jupiter," 688. A. Kenmann, 6.77. 
H. KendaU, 686. T. J. Kirkpatrick, 677. 
A. H. Lang, 636. Lee & Walker, 679. V. 
Leger, 699. J. Lennox, 686. Letts, Son & 
Co., 681-2. Little, Brown & Co., 680. Long- 
man & Co., 687. J. N. McClintock, 680. 
(Mrs.) F. T. McCray, 655, 674. A. H. Mac- 
Owen, 655, 674. Mason & Payne, 68 1-2. J. 
Menzies & Co., 686. W. L. Mer&hon & 
Co., 678. T. S. Miller, 655, 679. A. G. 
Morrison, 693. G. Moore, 692. F. Moore, 
685. Morris Bros., 683. P. N. Myers, 590, 

678. C. W. Nairn, 686, 692. *• Nauticus," 
6S4. E. Neve, 686. " Old Wheelman," 67S. 
Overman Wheel Co., 676, 6.'9. C. A. Pal- 

mer, 687. A. Palmer & Sons, 6S7. H. Park, 
678. J. Pearce, 6S6. M. D. Pellencontre, 
698. J. Peonell, 655, 6S7. (Mrs.) £. R. 
Penneil, 655, 687. L. G. Perreaux, 698. 
G. Phillip & Son, 683. R. E. PhiLipt, 550, 
639} 6S3. Pops Manufaauring Co., 678^ 
L. H. Porter, 530, 678. B. W. Potter, 68a 
Qiarles E. Pratt, 504, 67a. 678, 688, 703. 
F. A. Pratt, 625, 678. "Ras Banks," 68& 
Rand, Avery & Co., 674. J. M. Rankioe, 
698. F. Rsgamey, 69S. H. R. Reynolds, 
jr.* 533. 69S. Richard, 698. C. M. Rich- 
ards, 678. B. W. Richardson, 62, 685. Rob- 
erts Bros., 687. Rockwell & Churchill, 656* 
672, 679. Root & Tinker, 680. Will Rose, 
489. H. T. Round, 687. J. P. Russell, 696L 
H. N. Sawyer, 679. C. Scribner's Soos, 
655, 687. Seeley & Co., 6S7. E. M. Sen- 
seney, 677. J. C Sharp, jr., 673. E. R- 
Shipton, 687. .W. S. Y. Shutlleworth, 687. 
V. Silbsrer, 697. (Miss) E. L. Smith, 655, 
674. I. Snow & Co., 687. C. Spsncsr, 685, 
687. Springfield Printing Co., 675, 710. W. 
J. Spurrier, 684,685. W. G. Stables, 6S4. T. 
Stevens, 473-84, 655, 657. Stoddard, Lover- 
ing & Co., 679. Strand Pub. Co., 6S3. H. 
Sturmey, 684, 6S5. G. B. Thayer, 576. 
" Velox," 688. T. H. S. Walker, 651, 697. 
F. Wamc & Co., 685. J. S. Webber, jr.. 
655. 674. W. D. Welford, 687. F. W. We». 
ton, 676. " Chris Wheeler," 655. 674. W. 
H. Wheeler, 650. White, Stokes & Allen, 
655. 674. C. H. Whiting, 676. J. Wilkin- 
son Co., The, 677. A. Williams & Co., 673. 
J. A. Williamson, 6S4. A. J. Wilson, 534, 
693. H. S. Wood, 177, 676-7. T. H. Wrighi, 
677. A. Young, 65s, 6/9. G. £. Young, 

NoN-CYcuNG Books. 

Adirondacks, Illustrated Guide to the, 186. 
American Literature, Cyclopaedia of, 434, 439. 
Agriculture of Mass., 679. Among the Stu- 
dios, 431. Androscoggin Lake and Head- 
waters of Conn., 575. Atlantic Islands, 355. 
Australia, The "New Chum " in, 570. Aus- 
tralian Pictures, 570. Baddeck, 286- 7. Bart- 
lett. Memoir of Gen. W. F., 386. Berkshire, 
The Book of, 700. Bermuda, An Idyl of the 
Summw Islands, 366. Bermuda, History of, 
355- Bermuda, Illustrated Guide to, 366. 
Bermuda Pocket Almanac, 366-7. Bleak 
House, 466. Boston, Dictionary of, 113. 
Boston, Handbook of, 113. Boston Harbor. 



Handbook of, 1x3. Campaigns of tho Civil 
War, 35a. Cecil Dreeme, 4a8-9j 43 >> 438^1 
441. Cindnoati, Pocket Book of, 1 13. Col- 
kfe Journalism, A History of, 658. Conn. 
Valley in Mass., Hist, of the, 581. De- 
scriptiTe America, 177. Diseases of Modern 
Life, 6S5. Encyclopedia Britannica, 6SS. 
FieU Book of the American Revolution, 
TOOi. Field Book of the War of 1S12, 700. 
Foot Years at Yale, 405, 711, 722. Geologist 
of New Jersey, Report for 'iJ4 of the State, 
174. Grafton County Gazetteer, 577. Grant's 
Memoirs, 73a. Harvard and its Snrround- 
ings, 113. How to Pay Church Debts, 333. 
Hudson River by Pen and Pencil, 19S. 
Human Intercourse, 446, 468-9. Hunting 
Trips of a Ranchman, 455. Intellectnal Life, 
The, 467-S. Lake George, lUust. Guide to, 
185-6. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, 733. 
London Social Life, Impresuons of, 448. 
Lotberan Year Book, 323. Maritime Prov- 
mces. The, 293. Methodist Year Book, 324. 
Middle States, Guide to, 293. Minute Phi- 
losopher, 108. Modern Gymnast, The, 6S5. 
Moosehead Lake and N. Me. Wilderness, 
S7S. Mt Desert on the Coast of Me., 2S1. 
Navy in the Civil War, The, 352. New 
England, Guide to, 293. New York, Dic- 
tionary of, 65, Sr, 87, 89, 96, 100, 155. New 
York, Hist, of the City of, 434. Notes of an 
Idle Excursion, 356. Open Letter to J. G. 
Holland, An, 728. Picturesque America, 382, 
434, 70a Picturesque B. & O., 245, 282. 
Religion, My, 729. Roughing It, iv. Sara- 
toga, lUust. Guide to, 186. Shenandoah Val- 
ley in 1864, 346, 3S2. Split Zephyr, 466. 
Sprixigfield, Handbook of, 1x3, 126. Stolen 
White Elephant, 356. Stories by American 
Authors, 466. Tasmanian Excursionist's 
Guide, 563. Their Wedding Journey, 215, 
42& Thankless Muse, The, 73 r. Traveler, 
The, iv. U. S. Army Table of Distances, 
680. Vicar of Wakefield, 205. Visits to Re- 
markable Places, 404. Yale and the City of 
Elni**>33> Yale, Four Years at, 405, 71 r, 722. 
Walktng Guide to Mt. Washington Range, 
577. Washington Square, 432. Western 
MasB., Hist, of, 581. White Mtn. Guides, 
>93i S77- Winthrop, Life and Poems of Theo- 
dore. 439. „ 

NoN-cvcuMG Authors. 

T. B. AMrich, 431. D. Ammen, 352. O. 
Arnold, 15, 309, yaS. E. M. Bacon, 113. 

H. A. Beers, 466, 7or. S. G. W. Benjamin, 
355» 483. W. H. Bishop, 431, 72S. C. A. 
Bristed, 727-8. L. P. Brockett, 177. C. W. 
Bryan, 700. W. C. Bryant, 216, 700. O. 

B. Bunce, 700. H. C. Bunner, 727. C. S. 
Calverley, 34. A. Gary, 73 r. H. Child, 577. 
M. H. Cist, 352. P. Clarke, 570. G. H. 
Cook, r74. J. F. Cowan, 324. W. Cowper, 
406. J. D. Cox, 352. W. Decrow, 133. D. 
Defoe, V. C. Dickens, 354, 466, 724. J. C. 
R. Dorr, 366. A. Doubleday, 352. E. A. 
Duyckinck, 434, 439. T. Dwight, 127. S. C. 
Eastman, 577. R. W. Emerson, 721, 732. 
L. H. Everts, 581. C. A. J. Farrar, 575. M, 
F. Force, 352. B. Franklin, 702. Godet, 355. 
O. Goldsmith, iv., 205. U. S. Grant, 732. 
F. V. Greene, 352. M. Hale, 731. P. G. 
Hamerton, 446, 46S-9. J. C. Harris, v., 
24, 380. R. Herrick, 472. J. G. Holland, 
581, 728. W. D. Howells, 315, 428. W. 
Howttt, 404. A. A. Humphreys, 352. H. 
H. Jackson, 304. H. James, 432. S. John- 
son, 408, 427, 436, 755. F. Kemble, 72S. 
M. King, 1x3, X26. M. J. Lamb, 434. A. 
Lang, 722. H. W. Longfellow, 430. B. J. 
Lossing, 700. J. F. McClure, 658. A. T. 
Mahan, 352. C. B. Martin, 281. J. A. 
Moore,729. E. S. Nadal, 448. F. J. O'Brien, 
391. F. W. Palfrey, 352, 386- J- G. Pang- 
bom, 245. T. L. Peacock, 23. T. Percy, 
65, 81, 87, 89, 96, 100, 155, 198, 43X. W. H. 
Pickering, 577. G. E. Pond, 346. B. W. 
Richardson, 685. J. C. Ropes, 352. E. R. 
Sill, vi. J. R. Soley, 352. S. Stall, 323. 
J. H. Stark, 366. J. F. Stephen, 733. T. 
Stevens, 474. S. R. Stoddard, 185-6. M. F. 
Sweetser, 293, 577. L. Tolstoi, 729. I. 
Turgeneff, 728. M. Twain, iv., 356, 640. 

C. D. Warner, 286-7. A. S. Webb, 352. H. 
Willonghby, 570. T. Winthrop, 428-9,431, 
438-9, 44 X. J. D. Woodward, 198. 

N ON-CYCLING Journals. 
Advertiser, Boston, 113. Advertiser, Calais, 
Me., 263-4. Argus, Melbourne, 570. Army 
& Navy Journal, N. Y., 346. Atlantic 
Monthly, Boston, 430. Australasian, N. Y., 
570. Bat, London, 650. Bulletin, Mel- 
bourne, 558, 652. Cape Ann Advertiser, 
Ms., 674. Catskill Mtn. Breeze, N. Y., 
198. Century Magazine, N. Y., 483, 687. 
Chronide, Moorestown, N. J., 178. Chroni- 
cle, San Francisco, 431. Christian at Work, 


N. Y., 658. Church of Ireland Temperance 
Visitor, 686. Clipper, N. Y., 494,680. Con- 
tinent, Phila. (viii.). Country, London, 6S7. 
Courier, Ballarat, Vict., 561-2. Courier, 
Buffalo, N. Y., 5S8. Courier, Rochester, 
577. Descriptive America, N. Y., 177. Dis- 
patch, Pittsburg, 323. Evening News, Des- 
erct, 520. Examiner, London, 551, 711. Ex- 
press, Buff.ilo, N. Y., 588. Frank Leslie's 
Sunday Magazine, N. Y,, 323. Free Press, 
Aberdeen, Scot., 555. Gentlemen's Maga- 
zine, London, 403. Globe, Boston, 618. 
Good Words, London, 62, 685. Harper's 
Magazine, N. Y., 158, 242. Harper's Weekly, 
N. Y., 390-1, 402-4, 475, 483. Harper's Young 
People, N. Y.,615. Herald, Auckland, 567. 
Herald, Boston, 114. Herald, N. Y., 499> 
583. 657- Herald, Rochester, 216. Herald 
& News, W. Randolph, Vt., 672. Journal, 
London, Ont., 669. Journal & Courier, New 
Haven, 39S, 401. Knickerbocker Magazine, 
N. Y., 216. Knox Student, Galesburg, 658. 
Lake George Ripple, N. Y., 198. Lippin- 
cott's Magazine, Phila., i, i63, 658, 70a. 
Manufacturer's Gazette, Boston, 525. Mes- 
senger, Marbhhead, Ms., a8i. Massachu- 
setts Magazine, Boston, 680. Mrs. Grundy, 
N. Y. (vii.). Morning Call, San Francisco, 
492. Nation, N. Y., 281, 354, 433, 437, 450, 
570,614. News, Chelsea, 525. News, Ham- 
burg, Ger., 551. News & Chronicle, Stawell, 
Vict., 56'>, 696. Norfolk Reformer, Simcoe, 
Ont,, 33 r, 634, 669. Northwestern Christian 
Advocate, Chicago, 499. Once a Month, 
Melbourne, 560. Our Young Folks, Boston, 
431. Petit Journal, Paris, 697. Pilot, Bos- 
ton, 657. Post & Tribune, Detroit, 505. 
Post-Dispatch, St. Louis, 528. Press, Phila- 
delphia, 454. Puck, N. Y., 15, 36, 246, 409, 
499, 669, 673. Record, Phila., 627. Refor- 
mer, Bennington, Vi., 627. Republican, 
Lansing, Mich.', 505. Republican, Spring- 
field, Ms,, 115, 527. Royal Gazette, Bermuda, 
366. Round Table, N. Y., 135. Saturday 
Press, N. Y., 15. Scientific American, N. 
Y., 403. Scribner's Monthly, N. Y., 431, 
504,658. Stamboul Jonmal, Constantinople, 
4S2. Statesman, Marshall, Mich., 323. Stu- 
dent, Amherst, Ms., 114. Sun, N. Y., 154, 
403. Table Talk, Ottumwa, la., 67a. Tas- 
manian News, 563. Telegram, N. Y,, 280. 
Texas Sittings, 668. Times, Calais, Me., 
265. Times, N. Y., ii., 356, 459. Times, 

Philadelphia, 177. Times, Sydney* N. S 
W., 696. Tit Bits, London, xciv. Tooth- 
pick, Ashmore, 111., 489. Transcript, Port- 
land, 257, 627. Tribune, Cambridge, 657. 
Tribune, Chicago, 323. Tribune, N. Y., 
499i 597* 724, 72 7' Union, Springfield, Ms., 
580. University Quarterly, N. Y., 469. Van- 
ity Fair, N. Y., 444. Yale Courant, New 
Haven, 398. Yale Literary Ma(*azine, New 
Haven, 399-402. World, N. Y., 584, 730-1, 


American Club, 509. American Rudge, 
508. Arab Light Roadster, 535. Apollo 
Light Roadster, 321. Ariel, 504, 519, 541, 
546-7. Bayliss & Thomas, 348. Bone-shak- 
ers, 394, 400-2. British Challenge, 183, 508, 
Sao, 543. 545. 559. S'^'. 569. Carver. 503. 
Centaur, 523. Challenge, 330, 537. Club, 
505, 508, 523, 565, 569. Club Safety, 566. 
Columbia, 148, 189, 324, 487, 501, 505, 507, 
511, 520, 521, 524, 525, 565, 709. 7»2-3. Co- 
lumbia Expert, 47, 59, 149. ^n^ 244, 3S8, 474, 
484,492,503, 506,508,510-11, 513, 517,519-20, 
523-30, 575-^, 578- Columbia Light Roadster, 
527-9. " Columbia, Number 234," 35-^8, 
86. Columbia Special, 503, 507-8, 51 r, 520, 
521. Columbia Standard, 48, 59, 183, 244, 
37S, 474, 4^4. 488-9, 494, 500, 503. 508, 5«», 
5»3, 5 '5. 519. 523. 528-9, 576. Coventry, 330. 
Coventry Gentleman, 537. Coventry Ma- 
chinist Co., 663. Cunningham Co., 653, 656, 
666-7, 679, 712. Desideratum, 537. D. E. 
H. F. Excelsior, 546, 569. D. E. H. F. 
Premier, 519, 559, 561, 569. Duplex Excel- 
sior, 517, 524, 546. Eclipse, 541, 547. Ex- 
traordinary, 4S7, 505. Facile, 161, 509, 536, 
537. 538, 553, 554, 555- Gentleman, 567. 
Gentleman's Club, 569. Gentleman's Road- 
ster, 542. Gormully & Jeffery, 683, 798. 
Hartford, 401. Harvard, 138, 189, 493, 502, 
508, 520, 524. Hollow Spoke Roadster, 542. 
Howe, 552. Humber, 509, 516, 517, 524, 542. 
Ideal, 493. Interchangeable, 546. Invinci- 
ble, 517, 559. Ivel Safety, 557-8. John 
Bull, 507. Kangaroo, 508-9. Keen, 547. 
Lynn Express, 537. Matchless, 50S, 532, 
563. Monod, 401. Newton Challenge, 508. 
Otto, 521, 529. Overman Wheel Co., 662, 
663-5, 676. Paragon, 504, 517. Perfection* 
546. Pickering, 392, 400-5. Pony .Star, 509. 
Pope Mfg. Co., 24-6, 36, 40, 42, 47-8, 86, 94, 
«39, '89, 485, 5o»-2, S»«i 523, 526, 565.657-60, 



«♦» 7tt»-3. 7"-«3» 799- Premier, 327, 519, 
5*9. 5S9f S«» » f 5^- President, 49* • R • & P. , 
657. Regent, 540, Rover Safety, 535, 545. 
Royal Mail, 508, 527. Ruckcr, 509, 530, 
5i6, 542, 543- Rudge, laS, 139, 183, 32'. 
joo, soS-10, 6S9. Rudge Light Roadster, 388, 
5o8» 5«3» 526. S^Ji 5^7i 578, 679. Rudge 
Safety, 537. Safety, 505. Safety (King), 672. 
St. Nicholas, 524. Sandringham, 538. Sans- 
pareil, 324, 50S-9, 520, 524-5, 530. Shadow, 
50S. Singer, 348, 527. Singer Challenge, 
537. H. B. Smith Machine Co., 671. Special 
Club, 50S. Stanley, 517. Stanley Head Ex- 
celsior, 546. Star, 164, 172, 257, 267, 269-71, 
t74, 320, 508, 520.1, 525, 530. 549, 575. 577- 
Union, 508. Velocity, 50S. Victor, 487, 493, 
S08, 516, 519, 524-5» 527. 676. Xlra, 348, 505- 
Yale, 508, 509, 516, 519, 530. 

Beeston Humbsr, 557-S, 58S. Carver, 535. 
Centaur Tandem, 535. Challenge, 686. 
Cheylcsmore Qub, 562, 565-6. Cheylesmore 
Sociable, 589. Club Racer, 535. Qub So- 
ciable, 535. Columbia, 503, 508, 509, 511, 
528. Coventry Convertible, 517. Coventry 
Rotary, 513, 686. Crescent, 526. Cripper, 
517, 526, 552, 554. Dearlc^ve, 543. Diana, 
686. Excelsior, 503, 569. H umber, 509, 530, 
535» 543, 54*^. 55 «» 554-6, 686. Humber Tan- 
dim. 509. Imperial Club, 535, 554. Invin- 
cible. 517. National, 511. Omnicyde, 686. 
Premier, 524, 686. Qiuidrant, 535, 686. 
Rotary, 535. Royal Mail, 526, 554. Royal 
Salvo, 503. Royal Salvo Sociable, 517. 
Rucker, 686. Rucker Tandem, 509. Rudge, 
526. Rudge Tandem, 525. Special Chal- 
lenge* 535- Tandem, 535. Traveller, 509, 
526. Victor, 50S, 50J, 526. 


Ancestry, 722-3. Appointments for wheel- 
ing, 730. Authorship, iv., 405, 722-3. Aver- 
age roan in physique. An, v., 473. Awe an 
unknown element, 471, 727. Birthday Fan- 
tasie (verse). A, 23. Boat-race manager at 
New London, 130. Bone-shaker days, 391- 
406. Book, History of this, 701-719. Busi- 
ness-man, in spite of myself. A, vii., 483. 
Centenarian kinsman. My, 723. Change of 
" Kol Kron " to " Karl," 720. Class poet 
and historian, 39a, 401. Collector of post- 
age-stamps, 722. "Coll. Chron." of Worlds 

730, 723. Companionship the highest hap- 
piness, 467. Compensations of a quiet life, 
467, 731. Conceit, 732. Costume for riding, 
x6-22. Death, 380, 733. Deviation in career, 
c:iuscd by cycling, 406. Digging my way out 
to freedom, 725. Disclaimers : as to ambiiion, 
309f 733; athleticism, iv. ; boastfuliiess, v., 
5S2 ; college honors and prizes, 722 ; competi- 
tion, v., 484, 721-3; egotism, v., vii.; envy, 
V-, 393, 47i> 722, 730; fame, 309; hemiit-iife, 
467; hero-worship, 464; literary skill, iv., 
716; notoriety, vii., 281, 729; ostentation, 
729, 733 ; partisanship, 726 ; prais?, vi. ; van- 
ity, v., 701, 716, 732. Dislike for "literary 
men '' and " athletes," iv. ; for " medicine- 
men," 62. Divertissemtnt as the permanent 
element of life, 722. Early days with " Curl," 
407-251 471* Editor of college magazine, 
392-31 399* Emersonian maxims, 723, 732. 
Enemies, 731. European travel, 405-6. Forty, 
vi., 725, 732. Friends, 467, 726-7. Gen- 
ealogy, A student of, 722. Gift-taking, Ob- 
jections to, 713-4. Golden Fleas (verse). My 
search for the, 23, 406. Govemmsnt by in- 
terference. My hatred of, 726. " Great ex- 
pectations " as a bookseller, vii. Happiness, 
Ideal of future, 309, 467. Health, 62, 294, 
307. Hopefulness as a self-deception, 716. 
Hopes for the future, Three, viii. H umorous 
sense, 721-2, 727. Illness, 62, 294. Indebted- 
ness to family and friends, 727. Independ- 
ence protected by obscurity, 2S0. Indsx- 
maker in college, 392-3, 401. Indian as an 
ideal, 295, 466. Indifference to " recogni- 
tion," 727. Impartiality towards "the trade," 
vii., 712-4. Lament for the Legal-Tender 
decision, 464. League, Business-stake in the, 
720. Left-hand penmanship acquired, vi., 
483, 710. Life as viewed in retrospect, vi. 
Literary and theatrical people, IndifF>:rence 
to, iv., 728. Literary ideal. Simplicity of, iv. 
London life, 405-6, 427, 471. Longevity, 
Chances of, 723, 732. Lost inheritanc.*, r^'o. 
Marriage, 472, 723, 731. Mechanical aptitvtde, 
Lack of, 36, 713. Middle-age, 44, 294. Mind 
and character, 732. Money-making capacity, 
vi., 392, 720, 725. Mount Tom, Aff^'Ction for, 
252. " My Second Ten Thousand," Pro- 
posals for, 211, 501, 573, 590, 716-7. Nar- 
row escapes, 45, 413, 733. Ol>8ervalion of 
prominent people, "out of harnes.s," 727. 
Optimism, 731, Overwork, Attempts to es- 
cape, 720, 725. Personal revelations a busi- 



ness-necessity, vii. " Phflately," A writer 
on, 732-3. Physique, v., 59, 61, 62, 153, 294, 
307. Political prejudices, 736. Portrait never 
"exchanged," aSo. Preference for small 
tasks, 723. Pride, 732. Procrastination pre- 
vents English tour, 406. Publisher, Pay as 
^1 715* 724- Relations with wheelmen, 729. 
Representative spokesman for the hobby, As 
a, vi. Respect for fellow-residents of the U. 
B., 462. Right-hand disabled by too much 
pen-work, vi., 483, 710. Rowing, 61. Rule 
of non-membership, 720. Running, 6t. Sar- 
casms of destiny, 724-5. Self-reliance, 722. 
Slowness, iv., 731. Snapper-up of uncon- 
sidered trifles, Asa, v., 716. "Solidarity" 
with Stevens, 484. Solitude in the U. B., 
Experiences of, 463. Spectator of society. 
As a, 467, 722, 72S-9, 731. Sports of child- 
hood, with " Curl," 413-21. Statistical show- 
ing of my personal part in the book, xx. 
Steadfastness, 725. Subscript ion -solicitor as 
undergraduate, 392. Suspension from col- 
lege, 392, 404. Swimming, 61. " Thirtieth 
Street " reminiscences, 452. Touring, Equip- 
ment for, 16-22 ; Leisure gained for, 720. 
Travels in Europe, 405-6. Two exploits 
I should have been proud of, 464. Two sol- 
diers whom I admired, 386, 439. Under- 
graduate reminiscences, 391-405, 466. Van- 
ity disclaimed, 701, 716, 732. Verses voic- 
ing my philosophy, 15, 23, 34, 63, 304, 309* 
728, 729, 730, 731, 800. Visitors, Recep- 
tion of, 729. Volubility as a book-agent, 724. 
Walking, 61. Wealth, 15, 720, 731. Work- 
hours favorable for touring, 720, IVorld 
work as college chronicler, 720-1. Yale, 
Book about, 405, 711, 722. Vale graduate, 
Biography as a, 732. Yankee from Yankee- 
ville, A thoroughbred, 36, 722-3. Yale men 
in New York, Directory of, 464. 

Whebung Autobioc;raphy. 
Analysis of 234 rides, 49-63. Ankle sprained, 
241. Bathing, 61. Bed-bugs in MaryLind, 239. 
Bermuda trip forces U. S. Government to 
class tourists* cycles as " personal effects, 
exempt from duty," 368-70. Bone-shaker ex- 
periences in 1869, 391-406. Boots immortal- 
ized, 279. Boston pilgrimage for purchase of 
" No. 234," 25. Clothes for riding, Cost of, 
41. Club-swinging, 61, 395, 405. Coasting, 
S». 5^. 23? Cold weather, 246-54, 298-9, 342. 
Cramps, 59, 363. Cyclometer*, Experiences 

with (Butcher), 147, 374, 378 ; (McDonnelT). 
248 ; (Pope), 24, 26, 47, 5S2 ; oflFer to test, 714, 
Daily riding averages, 49. Drinking, 54, 6a, 
516. Eating, 61. Elbow broken by first fall 
from saddle, 24, 62, 307. Falls of my 1400 
m. tour, 306. Fastest rides, 58, 233, 313, 
362. Fifty-mile rides, *8o to '82, 50-51, 54- 
First sight of a velocipede, in '69, 393. Firsc 
trial of a bicycle, in '79, 156. Food, 6i, 313, 
36a. Foot, Injury to, 306, Fording, 22S, 24 «, 
375. 378-8«. 383- Headers, 55, 238, 273. 363, 
373. Hill climbing, 53, 58, 272 (71 corrected, 
582). Hotel mi.series, 13, 150, 205, 309, 227, 
229,230, 241, 326, 338. Hundred-mile run, 
312. League founded in my honor, 24; my 
business-stake in its success, 720. Leisure 
for touring. How gained, 720. Longest 
tour. Inspiration of my, 295. Long stays in 
saddle, 52-53, 122, 313, 343. Malarial sweats 
cured by riding, 294-5, 308. Mechanical 
aptitude, Lack of, 36, 713. Mileage of sepa- 
rate roadway estimated, 31. Memorial plac- 
ard on " No. 234," 48. Moonlight, Longest 
ride by, 318. Mud-clogging, 228, 349, 373. 
Night-riding, 56, 205, 2^7, 240, 241, 248, 252, 
298» 3«»i3»3. 318, 336, 338, 344. 360, 377. 
Objections to bags, 17; bells, iS, 22, 55; 
belts, 18, 22 ; crdwds, 256, 272 ; large wheels, 
59; medicine-men, 62; tobacco, 62, 63; 
whistles, 55. Pedestrian, Record as a, 61. 
Physique, Tests of, 54, 61, 153. Queerest 
ride of aU, 380. Railroad mileage summary, 
31, 33. Road-riding summaries, 1879- '82, 
26-31, 49-51. Race, My only, 362. Rainy 
rides, 228, 262, 283, 29S, 304-5, 380. Risks. 
53, »53, 362, 380. Saddle-soreness, 307. Sea 
voyages, 282, 392, 358, 363. Size of wheel. 
Preference as to small, 59-61. Snow-storms, 
351, 298, 342. Statistics of mileage com- 
pared, 31, 296, 317, 384, 388. Sunstroke in- 
vited on Long Island, 54, 153. Thefts, 57. 
Tliunder-storm, Descent of the Blue Ridge in 
a, 380. Touring as related to working hours, 
720 ; equipments for, 16-22. Tours outlined. 
Earliest, II, 26-31, 42. Training, 62. Trium- 
phant finish of the thousand-mile trail, 304. 
Vow to refrain from riding, 388, 733. Water 
routes, Summary of mileage on, 32. Wear 
and tear of machine, 37-41. Weariest day*s 
tour in four years (Ky.), 230. Week*s mile- 
age, Longest, 296. Weight and height, 59. 
World's record for straightaway touring, won 
by 1400 m. ride of 18S3, 300, 532, 549, 551. 



This Book of Mine, 701-733. 
Advertisements excluded, as a pledge of 
impartiality, 714, 719. Amusement and in- 
struction for uoo-cyders, iv. Autobiography 
between the lines. An, vi. Autograph edi- 
tion, Signing 3368 fly-leaves for the, vi., 710. 
BL IVariifs cold shoulder for the scheme, 
604. Bookselling against trade-precedent, 
▼ii. Boston's notions contrasted with New 
Yoric*s, 70S. Bull-dog as an inspiration, 703. 
Business basis of good-will, vi., vii., 701, 714, 
716, 720, 732. Circulars and specimen chap- 
ters, 704-9. Collegians not attracted, 708-9. 
Columbia bicycles. Incidental adv. of, 712-3. 
Comparison of my scheme to Stevens's round- 
the-fi'orld tour, 483. Complimentary copies 
for subscribing editors, 711. Conception, vi., 
702. Contents-table, ix.-xx. Contract with 
Springfield Printing Co., 707, 710. Copartner- 
ship with 3000 advance subscribers, vii., 701, 
714, 732. Corrections from authors and pub- 
lishers, 71S. Coftts of road-book making in 
general, 715. Criticisms invited, 715, 719. 
Curiosity of literature. As a, vi., 469. Dates 
of publication hoped for, 705, 707, 709-10. 
D^ication, ii. Delays and interruptions, 
733-6. Egotism as a business-necessity, v., 
vi., 701. Electroiyping, 573, 590, 707, 710, ix.- 
xx. English subs., Attraction of, 706, 709. 
Enthusiasm immortalized by the subscription- 
list, vi., 4S4. EnthuMasm of private canvass- 
ers, 705, 709. Estimates of cost and chances, 
703-71 712, 732. Estimates of number of 
words, XX. "Free advertisement " begrudged 
at Boston, 704; but cheerfully offered at all 
other places, 705-9; given by my book to 
every one, 714 ; objections analyzed, 718 ; re- 
sulting from censure, 719 ; sneers at, 484, 671 ; 
trade advantage of, 653. Geographical range 
of my subscribers, vii., xx. Gift-taking, Ob- 
jections to, 712-14. Hotels and libraries. Sell- 
ing the book to, 714. Impartiality shown by 
exclusion of advertisements, 714. Independ- 
ence of all Popes and powers, 713. Indexing, 
My ideal of, as a final cause, viii., 702. In- 
spiriog causes, 673, 702-3. Last apologies for 
the latest*written chapter, 573, 590. Literary 
ideal. Simplicity of, iv., 474. London cycling 
press. Treatment by, 695. Mailing of books 
from Springfield, 712, 714, 799. Manufact- 
aring. Contract for, 707, 710. Misprint of 
"|i. 50'* for "^,"73*, 734, 799- Money- 
making, Chance of, vi., 7011 73a. Opinions 

of subscribers wanted, 714-5. Pay wanted for 
publishing, 715. Political interruption. A, 

726. Pope Mfg. Co.'s offers of support, 703, 
711-13. Predictions of failure, 704, 706, 711. 
Preface, iii.-viii. Press, Treatment by the, 
704-9, 718. Price misprinted at " $1.50 " in- 
stead of "$a," 732, 734, 799. Printing, 
Progress of, 710. Proof-reading, viii., 710-11. 
Prospectus (Dec. 3, '83), 704, (May 8, '84) 
705. Puffery as distinguished from advertis- 
ing, 718, Reciprocation asked for, 718, 720. 
Reviewers, Suggestions to, viii. Scientific 
and unobtrusive egotism, v. Scope defined, 
ii. Special ed. of 200 on heavy paper, 710. 
Springfield Printing Co., 707, 710-12. Sub- 
scription-list, Growth of, xix., 704-9; signifi- 
cance of, as a monument of sympathy, vi. 
" Ten Thousand Miles on a Bicycle," 45, 
4^ 28 », 35», 372, 381, 383, 388, 469, 483-4, 
<^S5» 702. Tradesmen, Indifference of, 709, 
71a ; reasons why they should freely advertise 
and help its sale, 653. Type, Preferences as 
to size of, vii., 716-17. Undergraduates un- 
interested, 708-9. Unpaid agents as book-sell- 
ers, vii. Warnings for the " general reader," 
iii. IVkeePs liberal support, 704-5, 707-8. 
Wheeling and WheelmerCs Gazette give aid, 
706-9. Words, Estimated number of, xx. 
Working the outside press, 708. "X. M. 
Miles " as a title, 704. 

Philosophical and Sociai^ 
Affectations of society, 468. Affection and 
sympathy in cycling, 14, 729. Appearances, 
The cost of, 729 ; deceitf ulness of, 408 ; keep- 
ing up of, in England, 446. Aristocracy, 
396-7, 448-9- Bachelors' chambers, 440-2, 
455-6. Bashfulness a form of vanity, 50a. 
Birthdays, 502. Boastfulness, 502. Bohe- 
mianism, 469. Bores, 5, 309, 454, 471, 731-a. 
" Boy-like " a better adjective than " boy- 
ish," 14. Buildings, Lack of individuality 
in, 426; human-like changes in, 430. Cen- 
sure inspires curiosity, 719. Character a 
growth, 426 ; estimates of, 631. Childhood's 
egotism charming,. 732. Class enthusiasm at 
college, 391. Clothes, 16. Collegiate finances. 
Proper management of, 437. Colorlessness 
of " society people," 447-3, 455, Companion- 
ship, The cost of, 255. Compensations, The 
law of, 309, 731. Concierge as autocrat of 
Paris, The, 458. Condescension in thi clergy, 

727. Conformity, The Yoke of, 443-4, 448, 


454. Contempt best shown by silence, 596. 
Courage, Suggestions about, 725. Custom 
u Juggernaut, 444. Danger as a fascination, 
380. Death, The fear of, 468 ; the mystery 
of, 732-3. Democracy, An ideal, 396 ; social 
drift towards, 448. Eccentricity, Pain in the 
consciousness of, 443, 455. Eonomy of pay- 
ing a good price for the best, 606. Egotism, 
v., 732. Elegancies of living not forbidden 
by isolation, 456. Endowments for colleges. 
Influences affecting, 435-7. English house- 
hold comfort superior to American, 444-5, 
449-50. Enlightened selfishness, 719. Ex- 
clusiveness, 449. Fallacy of getting some- 
thing for nothing, 604. Fame, Emptiness 
of. iSi 309. 439, 465, 728-9, 733- Familiarity 
kills literary curiosity, 731. Family perma- 
nence not possible in America, 722. Fatigue 
of false pleasure, 309. Fighting for con- 
science' sake, 386 ; for peace, 466. Freedom, 
The charm of, 255, 280, 462, 466 ; the costs 
of, 444, 468; the ideal home of, 428, 472. 
Genealogy, Scientific lessons of, 723. Gen- 
erosity of wealthy Americans, 435. Genius, 
The secret of, 14. Gossip harmful by ex- 
cess, 280. Graduation-year, The memory of, 
391. Gravity defined by Rochefoucauld, 
727. Happiness in keeping boy-like, 14 ; con- 
ditioned on health, 294 ; of congenial work, 
468 ; of mental freedom, 469 ; of wheeling in 
foreign^lands, 309. Hermits, Apparent and 
real, 467-8. Hobby-rider as a bore. The, 5. 
Hoggishness, 10,615,621. Hospitality, Per- 
fect machinery for (in England), 442 ; diffi- 
culties of (in America), 449-50. Hotels, 442, 
450, 601-6. Humor of disappointment, The, 
256. Hypocrisy of " amateurism," 628, 630, 
649. Imitation, The servility of, 446, 453, 
468. Independence defined by Hamerton, 468. 
Intellectual exhilaration in long-distance tour- 
ing, 301-3. Insularity of British business- 
men, 484. Janitors, A study of, 457-60. Lit- 
erary faculty a form of weakness, 728. Local 
limitations of "position,^ 448. Local pride 
as a spur to public spirit, 436. Love, 15, 136, 
409-10, 442-3 , 47*. 73 '• Lying, 6, *o, 397, 733- 
Matrimonial ideals, 442. Memory, Fallibil- 
ity of, 391, 399, 404. Mental liberty, 454, 
468-9, 47a. " Money " a universal language, 
284, 701. Motto for an honorable life, 6S0. 
Negroep* behavior at Bermuda, 364. Origin- 
ality, French hatred of, 468. Ostentation, 
467, 469. Philistinism, 469. Pleasure of ** I 

told you so," The, 276. Politics, A citizen's 
duty towards, 726 ; a less-dignified game than 
wheeling, 309 ; a topic for conversation, 450. 
Publicity, The curse of, 281 ; privacy made 
by, 429, 443. Puffery, The mistake of, 718. 
Respectability, English ideal of, 446 ; French 
ideal, 468. Repute and reality, jA. Rich 
and poor, 630, 720, 729. Rivalries of men 
and women contrasted, 721 ; of Western 
cities, 436. Savage, Suggestions of the, 6r, 
62, 295, 309, 454-5, 466-9, 731. Sectarian con- 
trol of colleges, 435. Self -absorption. An- 
tidotes for, 466. Self-confidence, Rarity of, 
448-9. Self-suppression in London and New 
York, 427, 447. Servitude to servants (in 
America), 449-5° \ (in England), 445-7- Silence 
the bitterest form of contempt, 596. Sincerity 
of "last words," 730; in solitude, 467-9. 
Slaughter as the chief basis of renown, 465. 
Snobbery shown by " amateurism," 650. So- 
cial significance of various residence-quarters 
in N. Y., 65, 452. Society, as an ancient and 
interesting game, 728-9. Solitude, Pleasures 
of, 7, 34, 255, 406, 432, 454-6, 467-9 1 solace for, 
14 ; terror of to evil-doers, 44? *, test of char- 
acter, 462. Sophistry as a lawyer's main- 
stay, 724. Sport's highest function, 739. 
Superstitions, 409, 413, 430, 463. Sympathy 
in a common hobby, vi., 5. Theatrical life 
defined by Fanny Kemble, 728. Thieves* 
shrewdness, 441. Tonic quality in hard work, 
309, 468. Travel, Advantages of foreign, 
a, 469 ; necessity of for Englishmen, 447 ; 
relative' isolation in, 454. Triumph, Def- 
inition of, 304. Undergraduates as demo- 
crats and aristocrats, 396. Vanity as a lit- 
erary inspiration, 701; in portraiture, aSo; 
melancholy tokens of at Mammoth Cave, 
381 ; density of in " social leaders," 455 ; 
solitude as a deliverance from, 468 ; shown by 
bashfulness, 502 ; twists the street numbers, 
586. Veneration, 448. Verbosity of Evarts 
defended, 724. Votes, The significance of, 
726 ; the power of, for rebuking the preten- 
sions of the Great American Hog, 615, 621. 
War and peace, 386, 439. Wealth, 1 5, 396, 453, 
469. Whims, Distinction between positive 
and negative, 28 r. Wives and mistresses, 
441-4. Woods, A home in the, as an escape 
from conformity, 444, 454-6, 467-8. Youth : 
its generous " illusions " defended by Renan, 
472 ; its pricelessneas proclaimed by the 
hopeless longing of Turgeneff, 728. 



Incidbnts AKD ACaOBNTS. 
Ankle sprained on the tow-path, 56, 
»4i. Bad boy at Port Chester, 54. Be- 
nighted in Virginia mud, 375. Boston 
mfiianism at lantern-parade, 371. Canal 
"coolers," 340. Clothes rent, 307. Col- 
lisions, 55, 733, 529. Crossing an engine- 
hose, 516. Descending the Blue Ridge in 
a thunder-storm, 380. Dog-bite at Yonkers, 
18. Dog carried on tricycle by Australian 
toorist, 565. Elbow-breaking of my ear- 
liest ride, 24, 62, 307. Englishmen's mis- 
haps, 539-40. Falls and breakage of bicy- 
cl*! 37-40t 54. 306-7. Fleeing from the 
customs officers, 575. Ford-crossing in a 
fanner's cart, 378, 3S3. Fording the rivers 
in New Zealand, 56S. Forgetful inn-keeper, 
The, 3 18. Hard luck at Bagg's Hotel, 209. 
Headers of the Down-East party, 260, 276 ; 
of T. Stevens, 475, 478, 480. Horses, en- 
counters wiih, 57, 226, 321, 395-8. Immu- 
nity from accidents, 507, 511, 532, 537, 545, 
547, 585. Insolence of hotel-clerk rebuked, 
338. Jumping on a nail, 306. Lantern 
parade interrupted, 371. Mules scared on 
ihe Ene tow-path, 9, 199, 208. Mules scare 
me on the D. & H. path, 44, 340. Nar- 
row escapes : from a drunken man's whip, 
at Springfield, 57 ; from runaway mules at 
Honesdale, 45 ; from a recklessly-driven 
horse at Somerville, 733 ; from sunstroke, 
on the " hottest day of eleven years," 54, 
153. Pilfering, 57. Pocket-book lost and 
restored, 150. Prospect Park fatality, 586. 
Racing for the homeward steamer, 362. 
Rattlesnake bite in Nebraska, 478. Road- 
race interrupted by frightened mare, 321. 
Stevens (T.) in Afghanistan, 571 ; at An- 
gora, 48a ; in a Persian snow-storm, 570; 
mobbed in China, 572. Talks with specta- 
tors of the Bull Run battles, 375. Upset 
by bad boy of Port Chester, 54. 


Acquaintances alluded to, 136, 410, 
433, 4^, 450, 453, 731. Adulation of 
the dergy, 737. Mrs. Allen's long tri- 
cycle ride. 554. "Amaryllis," 44a. Amen- 
can iodal tjrpeSt 449' Australian tricycle 
toarists, 56a. Mrs. President Bates, 505. 
Miss Brock's sketch of Wcyer's cave, 382. 
Gary nsters, 731. " Cecil Dreeme," 438-9, 
44(' Chance to learn tricyding at Orange, 

588. Characters in H. James's novel, 
" Washington Square," 43a. Charmers of 
Calais, The, 266. Citizenesses of Machias, 
27a. Condexge's wife, 458. Countess de 
Castiglione's vanity, a8o. Mrs. J. C. R. 
Dorr's " Bermudian Days," 366-7. Miss 
Erskine's book on " Tricycling for ladies," 
684. Fifth Avenue residents, 453. Girl- 
graduates in Kentucky, 23a. Hatred of 
each other, 721. Hotel life, 450. H. H.'s 
definition of triumph, 304. Inquisitiveness, 
302. " Isabel's" notions, 216, 447. Mrs. 
Kemble's opinion of theatrical life, 728. 
Mrs. M, J. Lamb's " Hist, of N. Y. City," 
433- Mrs. F. T. McCray's cycling novel, 
655. 675. " M'd'lle des Mollets," 429, 439. 
Maidens of college days, 136. Mammoth 
Cave, Suggested troubles at, 383. Mat- 
rons' conversation, 450. Mrs. C. B. Mar- 
tin's book of Mt. Desert, 281. Matrimo- 
nial allusions, 280, 410, 472, 731. Mem- 
bers of C. T. C, 638. Mistresses and 
wives, 442-4. Mileage records, 528, 530, 
543. 554, 562. Newspaper gossip, a8i. 
Novel of tricyding, 655, 675. Orange 
Wanderers, 530. Mrs. PenneQ's tricycling 
tours, 530, 655, 687. Queen Victoria, 471. 
Mrs. Radcliffe's novels, 430. Rarity of 
"character," 426. Reproaches from, on 
tow-path and sidewalk , 9, 1 1. Rivalry, 72 1 . 
" Rosalind," 439. Miss E. L. Smith's 
cycling novel, 655, 675. Miss Sylvester, 
" bicyclienne," 530. " Sweet Singer of 
Mich.," Quotation from the, 729. Timid- 
ity of, in horse-driving, 10, 3 13. Tricyclers, 
517. 5»9. 52I1 5»3, S«4, 528. 530. 534. 54«, 
564. "Tricycling for Ladies," Miss Ers- 
kine's book on, 684. Tricycling tours, 
Mrs. Pennell's, 530, 655, 687. Servant- 
girls' dread of the U. B., 431, 440; modes 
of ruling their employers in England and 
America, 445, 449. " Skatorial queen," 
400. Universal rivals, 731. Velodpede 
racers in Paris, 403. " Viola," 439. " Vir- . 
ginia," 442. Visitors to the University 
Building, 441^. 470- Waiters in the Mo- 
hawk Valley, 13. " Wheds and Whims," 
655, 675. Miss Winthrop's book, 439. 
Wives of whedmen, 505, 506, 508, 516, 517, 
519, 5a», 5^3. 5»4, 5a8» 53o. 548, 554. 
Writers quoted or alluded to, 3^1, 304, 
366-7, 382, 433. 530, 655, 67$, 684, 687, 728, 
7»9. 73 «• 


Lbagub Politics. — Recent even is require a correction of the complimentary opinions on 
pp. 618, 620-1. On Mar. 24, 'S;, the President of the L. A. W. removed from the office of 
Representative of the Penn. Division the man who had for two and a half years served with 
great apparent efficiency as League Secretary-Editor, " for malfeasance, upon the following 
grounds, namely: (i) In that, being such Representative and also Secretary- Editor of said League, 
you wrongfully converted and appropriated to your own use the funds of said League, collected 
by you in your official capacity. (2) In that, being such Representative, you instigated ahd are 
instigating, aiding, and abetting the circulation of scandalous, libelous and false sta.tenients as 
to the conduct and motives of the Executive Committee of said League, and of its Board of 
Officers at the recent meeting in January last. (3) In that, being such Representative and 
owing allegiance to said League, you conspired with a certain official thereof, namely, John A. 
Wells, Chief Consul of Pennsylvania, to procure the cancellation of advertising contracts for the 
BuUetbty and the execution in the place thereof of contracts with said Wells, individually, for such 
advertising, thereby endeavoring to divert legitimate business from said BuUetin and to injure 
and if possible destroy its publication." The man last named was also removed by the Presi- 
dent, at the same lime, "for malfeasance, upon the following grounds, namely : (i) In that, 
being Chief Consul of Pennsylvania, and Secretary pro tempore of said League, you received 
official papers and refused and neglected to deliver them to your successor as Secretary, but 
turned them over to the committee of an adverse faction inimical to the Executive Committee 
and Board of Officers. • • • (4) In tliat, being such Chief Consul and owing alle- 
giance to said League, and being in duty bound to aid and assist it, you attached by legal proc- 
ess the entire bank account and the office effects thereof at Philadelphia, for an alleged daim for 
advertising commissions, payment of which had not been refused, to an amount largely in excess 
of said supposed claim, with the object of hindering, harassing, and annoying the Executive 
Committee and officers of said League, and by such unjustifiable duress of compelling payment 
of said alleged claim." The second and third charges against the C. C. were identical with 
the second and third against the ex-Secretary, whose note of Mar. 2S, accepting the removal, 
said : " I have decided, much against my own personal Interests, to drop the controversy where 
it now is and to refrain from any further comments on the charges thus far made against me ; 
though their truth I emphatically deny." All the foregoing appeared in the Bulletin of Apr. i 
(p. 266) ; and its issue of Apr. 15 (p. 298) contained these final words from the ex-Secretary, 
dated April 9 : " I hereby resign my membership in the League of American Wheelmen." 

The full history of this deplorable case covered six pages of fine type in the BuUetin of 
Mar. II, '87, and was in form an '* official statement by the Executive Committee to the offi- 
cers and members of the League." For the clear and moderate language of the narrative, and 
the business-like way in which the letters of the ex-Secretary were marshaled in unanswer- 
able evidence against himself, I suppose credit must be given to the legal member of the com- 
mittee, J. C. Gulick. As early as the Board meeting of Feb. 22, *86, the Secretary's mode of 
keeping accounts had been sharply criticised (5«//e/m, pp. 192, 216-18), and at the next or 
annual meeting. May 28, the Executive Committee were instructed to prepare a report showing 
the exact finandal condition of his office. The Secretary absented himself from that meeting, 
on the plea of illness caused by overwork, and was represented there by J. A. Wells (" Sec.-£d. 
pro /*»r.,"— a special partner in the firm of E. Stanley Hart & Co., printers of the Bnlhiin), 
who declared that two designated banks of Philadelphia then held League funds amcranting to 
*4438.v (s«« verbatim report, Bulletin, June 11, »86, p. 536, 1st col.). Though this partly 
allayed the suspicions aroused by the Secretary's failure to send the Division treasureis their 
money, the Executive were nevertheless ordered to investigate him, as aforesaid ; and he tkere- 


upon, seeing that exposure was inevitable, wrote to the President (June i6, ^), confessing 
** an inexplicable and inexcusable loss of jj^soo, whereof at least 1^4500 belonged to the L. A. 
W. ; and 1 am left without a cent of my own to replace it with." The committee, being in 
doubt as to their ability to carry on a criminal prosecution in behalf of an unincorporated body, 
—or to collect the 1^3000 bonds whidi had been signed to it, " as a corporation," by two Phila- 
delphiaus, as sureties for the Secretary's honesty,— decided to use the self-incriminatory letter 
as a bait for getting back the lost money, before they discharged the defaulter from his official 
post. By the employment of a firm of expert acaiuntants, Vesey & Vesey, and the payment of 
some $750, for this and other incidental expenses, they discovered that the defalcation had at 
one time been about #5700 ; they put in operation a new set of books which would render further 
irregularities much more difficult of concealment ; and they finally, on Aug. 3 1, got back the last of 
the missing cash. Before returning his written " confession " to the Secretary, they had a copy of 
it taken and sworn to (as printed in BuHttin^ Mar. ti, '87, p. aoi); and the accountants, Vesey 
& Vesey, also took copies from this original letter, and they publicly declared that, from 
their familiarity with the Secretary's handwriting, they had no question whatever of its authen> 
ticity {/imerican Athlete^ April a, '87, p. 57), — though he himself denied it as a '* preposterous 
fabrication " (./4 . A.^ Mar. 19, p. 42). The accountants discovered that the net loss on 18 
months' publication of the BmlUtm had been " within $200 of $5000," despite the annual allow- 
ance of $3500 for salaries and rent, and extra grants for postage and incidentab ; and they de- 
clared their inability to get from the Secretary the check-books, pass-books or checks which 
Bnight show his transaaions with the bank where he deiwsited most of the League money. 

It should be noted that the funds were restored just before the stated Board meeting of Sept. 
3, *86, thus allowing the committee to make a favorable report of their investigation {Bul.^ Sept. 17, 
p. 298), instead of announcing the deficiency. They next worked assiduously to secure from 
the Sccretauy a legally valid bond of 1^3000, in substitution for the imperfect one which nomi- 
nally held him ; and they got it, Oct. 39, or more than a month after their first written demand 
had followed their verbal request. Upwards of a dozen letters were exchanged in this interval 
and they may be perused by whoever is curious to study the Secretary's skill as a prevaricator 
{Bml.y Mar. 11, '87, pp. 204-5); but the final phrase of the final one, dated Oct. 25, which brought 
his pn>crastination to an end, was this : "If the said satisfactory bond is not in our hands 
before Nov. i, the committee will be under the necessity of removing you from the office." A 
unDarly inexcusable delay was shown by him in obeying the recommendation made in the 
eariiest report of the expert accountant (June 30, '86; see Bul.^ Feb. xi. Mar. 11, '87, pp. 117, 
205), that he should no longer be allowed to deposit League money in his own private bank 
account, or to draw checks upon it without the counter-signature of one of the Executive Commit- 
tee ; for the November checks were the earliest ones forwarded to them for such signature," there- 
by revealing that J. A. Wells, whom we had assumed as a voluntary friendly assistant, was drawing 
iraauthorized pay, for commissions on Bulletm advertisements." At the earliest committee-meet- 
ing after this disclosure (Phila., Dec. 12), " it was at first determined to demand the Secretary's 
resignation " ; but desire to avoid public scandal— the same motive which had previously led 
the committee to treat him with what their critics call undue indulgence — induced them to post- 
pone action, in the hope that at the annual winter meeting of the full Board, appointed for Jan. 
17, a new Secretary might be quietly elected, and the League's good name be kept untarnished. 

" Before many da>'s, however, it became clear that such delay was injudicious, and that the 
Secretary should either tender his resignation, be requested to resign, or else be removed from 
office, before the convention met. A letter from the President to that eflFect brought him and 
Mr. Wells to New York for an interview, wiih the cool statement that the resignation would be 
offered on the condition that Mr. W. should be appointed his successor." The President hav 
ing insisted on the impropriety of this, and referred the matter to the Executive Committee, Mr. 
W. appeared before them and "gave assurance that he would admit an unconditional resigna- 
tion by the Secretary, to take effect at once,"— but in the hope that this concession would im- 
prove his own chances of appointment. On Jan. 11, '87, the President telegraphed to him : 
'* Have reoeived resignation. Will you accept Sec- Ed. 's office until Jan. 17? If so, publish 


resignation and appointment in BuUetin.^^ That paper of Jan. 14 (pp. 30-31) printed the Sec- 
retary's letter, which was dated Jan. i, and said the resignation was " caused by the acceptance 
of a very flattering business offer," and would " take effect on the election of my successor, 
Jan. 17," — which limitation had not been noticed by the President when he sent the telegnm. 
On the mere authority of this telegram, the Secretary printed a formal letter, of same date, with 
the President's signature attached to the following phrase : " It affords me pleasure to appoint 
to this responsible position Mr. John A. Wells, Chief Consul of the Pennsylvania Division, 
and I take this opportunity to congratulate the League on the fact that a gentleman of Mr. 
Wells' well-known abilities has been induced to accept the position." {Bul.^ Jan. 14, '87, p. 
31). As the President never wrote these words, they were presumably fabricated by the Secre- 
tary, who printed just below them, over his own signature, a " fraternal address to all League 
members," containing additional compliments for his ostensible successor, thus : " I do not doubt 
that the wisdom of our President's prompt choice will meet with an emphatic indorsement by our 
Board. Mr. Wells' accepunce of the trust assures the League that a conservative and able ad- 
ministration will be the result of such a choice." A more elaborate farewell address was promised 
for the issue of Jan. ax ; but as the Executive Committee managed to regain control of their prop- 
erty before then, they naturally " barred the insertion of further self-laudatory effrontery and 
hypocritical infliction " ; and on Jan. 16, when the President told the Sec. he must either resign 
at once or be removed, he resigned unconditionally, and Mr. Wells was appointed Sec. /rv tern. 
To explain the committee's manner of regaining control on Jan. 17, it is necessary to go 
back a little and say tliat when the Secretary's confession of defalcation put upon them the difS- 
cult duty of discovering some suitable person to appoint or elect in his place, at such time as he 
should be gotten rid of, they naturally turned towards the Chairman of the Racing Board. On 
the one hand, he was an elderly man, who liad won the re.spect of League members by the 
straightforward way in which he had enforced their odious " amateur rule," that cycle racing in 
this couhtry must be governed as a matter of social etiquette and pecuniary standing rather than 
as a matter of sport and swiftness (see p. 630), and who had had a longer experience at the busi- 
ness of cycling journalism than any other American (p. 525) ; while, on the other hand, his 
newly-born weekly, the Cycle, gave few tokens of any such financial support as might ensure its 
permanent prosperity (p. 665). When, however, — after gaining his consent to abandon this, in 
favor of the more-certain income attaching to the position of Secretary- Elditor, — ^they bistirred 
themselves to secure such a number of " proxy votes " as would place his election beyond ques- 
tion, they found that the actual Secretary had already put out a drag-net for the capture of 
enough " blank proxies " to elect his own successor and " keep the BHlletin at Philadelphia." 
Aroused thus to the danger of seeing themselves triumphantly defied by the defaulter whom they 
had treated so leniently, they made the " combination of Massachusetts, New York and Ohio," 
which elected their candidate over his, by a majority of 34 in a total vote of 136. The ballot was 
not cast until it p. m. of Jan. 17, though the session began at 11 a. m., — ^most of the intermedi- 
ate time being spent in debating the Secretary's right to collect blank proxies from the unwary 
and put them into his friends* hands for voting. There were 15 such proxies rejected by the 
Board, 2 others because of non -residence and 2 others because sent by telegraph ; and though 
the legalization of these 19 could not have changed the result of the actual vote (S5 to 51), it 
might have been changed by the whole " 42," which the Secretary's statement said were given 
to him (A. A., Mar. 5, p. 11). His failure to offer 23 of these seems to imply that not enough 
of his partisans were present to use them ; 1. e., the distribution of these 19 in addition to the 
allowable proxies seems to have brought them all up to the legal limit of " three each." On 
the very night of his defeat, the " Sec. pra iem.^* made a peremptory demand for $1000, on a 
printing bill due his firm (which had not previously been named as urgent, but which the com- 
mittee at once paid) ; and on the following morning he and the ex-Sec hurried home to Phila., 
without attending the adjourned session of the Board, carrying with them the official papers and 
documents which were needed for the transaction of its business. A unanimous vote was there- 
fore passed that they *' deserve the severe censure of this Board and of every member and 
friend of the League, for betrayal of trusts reposed in them, for conduct prejudicial to the 


League, and for malfeasance in office " ; and it was later declared as the sense of t^e Board ** that 
the President ought forthwith to remove them from their offices, as guilty of malfeasance/' — 
though he did not in fact do this until March 24. The latter resolution was seconded by " the 
only Representative of Pennsylvania remaining in attendance/'— for the others kept away from 
the adjourned session, and w did not hear the reading of the certified copy of the letter of June 
16, *86, which confessed the defalcation. They had heard, however, the strong verbal protest 
of the ex-Secretary against the propobal to read it, at the first day's session, as supplementary 
to the ihree reports of Vesey & Vcscy, accountants, which were read then. The first day's 
vote, that the damaging figures of these reports and the other unpleasant facts of the meeting be 
not given to the press, was rescinded on the second day, when the defiant withdrawal of die ex- 
Secretary's defeated faction had made clear that the Board must proclaim the full truth, however 
scandalous, as the only sure method of justifying their conduct to the general membership. 

The first impulse and intention of the seceding faction, according to general rumor and be- 
lief, was to refuse recognition of the new Secretary-Editor, as illegally elected, and so " keep 
the BmiUtiH at Philadelphia " until an appeal could be made to the League's general member- 
ship. Nothing so foolhardy was attempted in fact, however, and the intention itself was stoutly 
denied, — though the actual folly of the " mass meeting of Feb. 1 " made such rumor seem 
plausible. When ihe new Secretary arrived, on Jan. 19, he was put iu possession of the League 
office, civilly if not graciously, and no special obstacles seem to have been thrown in the way of 
bis getting control of its business. The BulUtiM of Jan. 21, which was already in t3rpe, printed 
his name as editor, but said : " By request of the Executive Committee, Mr. J. A. Wells has 
uken char:ge of this week's issue ; " so that the paper of Jan. aS was really the first one under 
the new rigifme. It gave a condensed account of the two days' meeting and of the committee 
reports read then, and also printed the ex-Secretar>''s report, which he had not been allowed to 
read in advance of the election on the first day, and which he declined to read or to leave for his 
successor to read on the second day. The document is an interesting and valuable on/s (filling 
nine columns of nonpareil type, though some parts were omitted), and I should be glad to quote 
extensively from its well-tabulated facts about League membership, and its shrewd special- 
pleading about the Bulletin. In the same issue (p. 75) appeared a farewell sonnet to the ex- 
Secretary, which, though creditable to the author's literary ability (as well as to his goodness of 
heart, — assuming that he wrote before discovering the unworthiness of the object of it), ought 
never to have been published by the new Secretary, who was fully aware of that unworthiness. 
He issued four more numbers at Phila., but has since published it in Boston, at the former office 
of the Cycle^ 22 School st., — the printers being A. Mudge & Son, 24 Franklin st. " We were 
obliged to make a quick move to Boston, to print this Bulle/in," he said, March 4, " for only 
six days before its date the firm to which Mr. Wells belongs suddenly discovered they could not 
print it, as expected. This is only one of many annoyances to which he has subjected us, — such 
as the refusal to furnish a mail-list, the demand for weekly payment of printing bills, and the 
attachment of all the League effects in Phila." The latter process was served Feb. 18, on the 
pretext of securing a claim for $572, alleged to be due for commissions on advertisements. Five 
or six weeks later, rather than have the trouble of a law-suit, the League compromised for $200. 

Meantime, on Mar. 5, the day when the first Boston issue of Bulletin appeared, he an- 
nounced himself as " managing editor of the American Athlete (P. O. Box 916, Phila.), official 
of]gan of the Association for the Advancement of Cycling, and of the Pa. and Md. Divisions of 
L. A. W. Published every ahemate Saturday by the Am. Ath. Pub. Co., 321 Chestnut St., and 
entered at the P. O. as 2d class matter." In the second issue, Mar. 19, the "official organ" 
phrase was displaced by the following : " an. independent bi-weekly journal, devoted to <tmateur 
cycling, cricket, lawn-tennis, base-ball, rowing, and other amateur athletic sports ; " and in the 
third issue, Apr. 3, " Box 9x6 " (long familiar to League men as the ex-Secretary- Editor's) was 
displaced by " Box 1228," with the remark that that person " does not have and never has had 
any financial interest in this paper, and that he is not and never has been our employ^, either as 
assistant-editor, correspondent, or in any other capacity whatever." The significance of this 
disclaimer is connected with the fact that p. 57 of the same paper printed the letter from Vesey 


& Vesey, accountants (quoted at the outset of this article), affirming that the ex-Secrctary's con- 
fession of defalcation, written June x6, was copied by them July 2 ; and tliat their report of 
Aug. II, '86 (read at Board meeting of Jan. 17, '87; printed in Bm/., Feb. 11, p. 118, isicoL) 
showed the amount of it to be $5532.79. Attached to the latter was the following editorial note : 
** The above is as great a surprise to us as it will be to any of our readers. As the Executive 
Committee liad all this information in their possession at the League Board meeting at Buffalo, 
last September, why in the name of all that is honest did they not depose him then and there, 
or at least place the facts in their possession before the Board, instead of making a manifestly 
false report. If these men have deceived the Board once, they will do so again, and the only 
safe course the League can pursue is to elect an entirely new Executive." Yet the first issue of 
this journal, only four weeks before, had devoted all save 2 of its 21 columns to attempting the 
defense of the ex-Secretary, and the discrediting of those who had helped to depose him ! He 
himself filled four columns with an " affidavit " and three more with a " statement,'* whose 
conclusion was editorially promised for the second number. Instead of this, however, he printed 
eleven columns (Mar. 19, pp. 3S-43), called a " reply to the false and libelous charges of the Ex- 
ecutive Committee's * Statement ' in Bulletin of Mar. 11." The first eight columns of this were 
given to abusing the committee, — endeavoring to show, by an exposure of their private letters to 
him, that they were men of weak character, — while two columns were devoted to " an emphatic, 
broad denial " of his own self-incriminatory letter, unaccompanied by any reasonable evidence 
against its authenticity. The same issue gave iS columns more to a stenographic " report of the 
mass meeting of the Pa. Div., L. A. W., qt the rooms of the Phila. B. C, Feb. 1, '87, to protest 
against the illegal and unwarranted acts of the Board meeting of Jan. 17-18," — the outcome of 
which was the publication of a verbatim report of the latter meeting {Bul.^ Feb. 11, i8, pp. 
1x2-22, 143-6), and of the Ex. Com. Statement and Credentials Com. Report {^Bnl. Mar. ti, 25, 
pp. 201-7, 242). No logical reader of these documents can have any doubt as to the fairness and 
wisdom shown by the League's Board, on Jan. 17, in getting rid of the officers who had betrayed 
it ; and the singular fatuity with which a considerable number of full-grown, intelligent, well- 
roeaiiing, honest and respectable Philadelphians " wrote themselves down " in their expressions 
at that "indignation meeting of Feb. i " (as preserved in the cold type of its stenographic re- 
port), seems to me to rank as a psychological phenomenon. Their unaccountable simplicity in 
being beguiled, even a fortnight after the official accountant's grim figures ("$5532.79 defalca- 
tion ") had become a matter of record, is only matched by the amazing effrontery of ihe ex- 
Secretary, in forcing the League's officers to make a public scandal of his crime. There is some- 
thing bewildering and almost incredible in the choice he made, to defy them and attempt con- 
cealing the truth from their 10,000 supporters, after putting his signature to a long confession 
which says : "At least $4500 of this missing $6200 was money belonging to the L. A. W." 
"One amount of $1000 I have raised, but $4000 at least I must have at once or be forever dis- 
graced." " I cannot longer stand." " I must have release or give it up and die." 

Though the former practice of selling the League mailing-hsls (at $2 to $5) was forbidden, 
by vole of Ex. Com., some years ago, these lists have been used in sending out the American 
Athlete^ which thus boasts a "guaranteed circulation of over 10,000 copies per issue." Its 
nominal price is 50 c. a year, 3 c. a copy; and its 5 numbers, to Apr. 30, show loS pp., whereof 
40 pp. are advertisements. The object of its existence has not been very clear since the third 
issue, when the task of defending the defaulting ex-Secretary was thrown overboard as hopeless, 
and it will probably not last much longer. The men who saved the League from the machina- 
tions of its editor will perhaps read it while it lasts, for the sake of the spiteful slurs and innuen- 
does which testify to the thoroughness of their work. The intellectual feebleness which inspires 
this malice is shown by the pretense that the BulletirCs transfer to Boston " puts it under the 
thumb of the Pope Mfg. Co." ; and that the expressed intention of League 'members to promote 
to their presidency the man who as Vice-President helped the other two members of the Ex. 
Com. to get rid of the defaulter, " means merely that the Pope Mfg. Co. orders the place to be 
given to one of its stockholders." The general carelessness and thoughtlessness which charac- 
terize much of the editing and writing in the cycling press, have likewise been shown in most of 


the printed comments on this lamentable case. These chance critics have treated it as a personal 
quarrel between two official factions of nearly equal merit and importance ; and, witti a lazy dis- 
like of investigating its merits, have flippantly declared " the whole business is a bore." Tire- 
some the case has been, of necessity, but there has been nothing quarrelsome about it, any more 
than about the conduct of judges and juries who bring other evil-doers to a halt. The struggle 
was an attempt of the organized wheelmen of America to maintain their official integrity ; and 
lasting gratitude belongs to their representatives who proved that they had power to do it. 

In the latest annual election of Chief Consuls (announced in Bulletin of Apr. 29, '87), the 
following new men were chosen, while tlie other States re-elected the ones named on pp. 627-8 : 
Vt., L. p. Thayer, W. Randolph ; Ct., L. A. Tracy, Hartford ; N. J., J. H. Cooley, Plainfield ; 
Pa., G. a. Jessup, Scrantou ; W. Va., J. W. Grubb, Wheeling ; Va., J. C. Carroll, Norfolk ; 
La., H. H. Hodgson, New Orleans; Tbnn., J. C. Combs, Nashville; Kv., E. H. Croninger, 
Covington; III., N. II. Van Sicklen, Chicago; Ia., F. C. Thrall, Ottumwa ; Dak., J. E. 
Gilbert, Mitchell ; Nsa, F. N. Clark, Omaha. The office of Sec.-Treas. is held by new men 
in 4 States, as follows : N. J., R. Pound, Plainfield ; O., F. C. Meyer, Canton ; III., S. B. 
Wright, Chicago; Wis. (org. Feb. 24, '87), G. W. Peck. The "official programme of the 
eighth annual meet of the League " — appointed for St. Louis, May 20 — is an elegant 36 p. 
pamphlet, printed in colors on tinted paper, with 17 illustrations by artists of the Missouri Divis- 
ion. At that time, T. J. Kirkpatrick, of Springfield, O., will probably be promoted to the 
presidency, and A. B. Irvin, of Rushville, Ind., to the treasurership, for no other candidates have 
been mentioned. Lithographic portraits of each were issued as supplements by the IVfieei- 
men's Record^ May 12 and Apr. 21. To fill the places resigned by original incumbents of 
two offices named on p. 627, appointments have been made thus : Tourmasier, N. L. Col- 
lamer, St. Cloud Building, Washington, D. C. (app. Apr. 25, '87); Bookmasier, A. B. Bark- 
man, 608 Fourth av., Brooklyn, N. Y. (app. Dec. 18, '36). The laiter's " Road-Book of the 
New York Division " (see pp. 584,625) was published May 4, '87, and is the most elaborate and 
carefully-compiled work of the sort thus far isaued by the League. Of its 200 pp., the tabulated 
riding-routes cover 144 pp. and describe 14,000 m., including no less than 11,300 m. of separate 
roadway, from Canada to Virginia. Details are added (12 pp.) concerning the best riding around 
N. Y. City, Brooklyn, Long Island, Staten Island and Bu£falo (with a map in each case), the 
Hudson, Berkshire and the Adirondacks ; and special majjs are given of the Orange and Phila. 
riding districts. There are a dozen other pages of interesting and valuable letterpress, and twice 
that number given to table-of-con tents and index to 1641 towns. The book is well-printed, by 
E. .Stanley Hart & Co., ot Phila. ; is of the regulation oblong shape 3 by ^\ in. ; weighs 5J 
oz, ; has flexible covers of dark green leather, and can be procured only by League members, — 
residents of the State receiving it free and others paying $1 for it. No worider that, with such 
a valuable gift in prospect, the Sec.-Treas. was able to rei^ort, Apr. 2, "an unprecedented per- 
centage of renewals,— 1404 out of 1748, — so that, with new applicants, our present membership 
is 1649, or within 100 of its size at the close of '86." Deducting $389 for expenditures of the 
first quarter-year, he names $1544 as net assets, — from which I suppose the cost of book is to be 
paid. The latter's preface expresses the hope that it may be the means of swelling the member- 
ship to 3000 before the year closes. 

Another signal proof of the power and wise management of the Division is shown by the 
passage through the State Assembly, May 2, of an act declaring drivers of bicycles and tricycles 
to be " entitled to the same rights and subject to the same restrictions as persons using carriages 
drawn by horses," — and forbidding local authorities to enforce any repressive rules against them 
(for full text, see Bul.y Apr. 8, p. 279; Wheel, Apr. i). This was formulated at the instance of 
the Chief Consul, G. R. Bid well, by the Division's counsel, I. B. Potter (whose summary of 
" the road-law of cycling " is given in the book just named ; seepage 584), and introduced Apr. 12, 
when it went at once to a third reading. As the Park Commissioners of N. Y. City were too 
much absorbed in their own chronic personal wrangling over *' patronage " (p. 93) to organize 
any opposition, it received a practically unanimous vote, May 2, and will probably become a law 
before their book appears. Even if they manage to stop it now in the Senate, ultimate triumph 


cannot be doubtful ; for the men who vote against this " equal rights bill " will be persistently 
advertised and "black-listed" by the many hundreds of vigorous young voters who have put 
their signatures to the petitions in its behalf. The latest contribution to the literature of wheel- 
men's rights on the highways appears in Outing for May, from the pen of C. £. Pratt, our ear- 
liest American student of the subject (see p. 503) ; and the latest grant from the commissioners 
of Prospect Park allows all tricyders as well as bicyclers to use the footpaths at all hours, and 
also the driveways,— except two unimportant stretches ; but lamps are required after nightfall. 
The Indiana Division's road-map of that State (scale 9 m. to i in.; showing an area of 90 n. n. 
and s., 153 m. e. and w.) was Issued Apr. 8, and may be had by non-members for $1, on appli- 
cation to J. Zimmerman, 37 S. Alabama st., Indianapolis. It contains lists of officers and hoteb, 
and is folded in water-proof cover. The Michigan Division's road-book is announced for May 
10 (see p. 625). The League men of Illinois intend that each of the thirteen districts, into 
which their State is divided for representative purposes, shall issue a road-map in book-form, 3 
by 5} in., accompanied by printed briefs of the tours outlined upon it ; and that each representa- 
tive shall keep for reference a large-scale map of his district (^»/., Mar. xi, '87, p. 20S). The 
long-delayed general hand-book of the League (see p. 625), with 24 titles in its contents-!i£t, 
was announced for distribution Jan. 28 ; and the Sec. -Ed. will gladly send several copies to any 
address, on receipt of 4 c. for mailing. Though the Jan. meeting authorized a new ed., to coo- 
tain the latest rules and be sold at 10 c, no such book seems likely to appear before '88. All re- 
quests for the present pamphlet, or applications and money for membership should be sent — noi 
to the address given at foot of p. 624, but — to Abbot Bassett, 22 School St., Boston, Mass. 

By estimate of the ex-Secretary (5»/., Jan. 28, p. 71), about 4000 uniforms were sold to 
League men, by Browning, King & Co., of N. Y., under a contract which seems to have been 
rather carelessly executed, and which, towards the last, caused much dissatisfaction, by reason 
of the poor quality of cloth supplied. The committee of three, who were appointed to reform 
the matter, advertised full specifications (^«/., Apr. 8, p. 2S2), with intention to avrard to low- 
est bidder by Apr. 20 ; and they announced on May 2 its award to J. Wanamaker, of Phila., at 
following prices: Coat, $6.20; breeches, $4.34; shirt, $1.95; hose, 80 c; cap, 80 c; cloth 
$2.37 per yard, — all goods to be delivered free at any express office in the U. S. The contract 
lasts till Nov. X, '89, and will presumably prove advantageous to the League, for the reason that 
its exceptional advertising value to the contractor fairly allows him to underbid aU competitors. 
He is now ready to fill orders direct, and he will soon mail to every League man an illustrated 
price-list, with blanks for ordering and for self-measurement. The contract binds him to buy 
a special sort of dark brown " Venetian " cloth, made at the Burlington Woolen Mills, for $2.12 
per yard. (I may add here, for comparison, and to correct the record of p. 635, that the cloth for 
C W. A. suits is now sent out by one of the Chief Consuls, — C. Langley, 12 Front st., Toronto, 
— for 40 c. per yard ; also that the C. W. A. treasury, on May i, had a surplus of more than 
$200, after paying for the 2d ed. of its excellent road-book ; see p. 636.) The League cash bal- 
ance, Mar. 31, was $2744-23, with $3872.39 due for advertising. Against these total assets of 
$6616.67 were set $4352.58 due the Divisions and $1300.08 for all other accounts, including the 
month's printing,— thus leaving an apparent net balance of $964. The number of Bulletin's 
pages has been lessened and its advertising rates increased ; so that during April its receipts ex- 
ceeded its expenditures by almost $100. The editor insists that it will be perpetuated as a 
weekly, in spite of the large sums lost upon it ; and he predicts a membership of 9224 on May 
20, as compared with 8463 at similar date in 'S6, and 5176 a year earlier. The final report of the 
ex-editor gave a tabular view of its monthly receipts and expenditures for '86 (^«r/., Jan. 28, '87, 
p. 71), showing a total excess in the latter of $3470.91 — the only month on the right-side of the 
column being May, with a profit of $130. He argued, however, that the deficiency merely 
showed that members paid 34 c. each for a weekly paper which would cost them at least $1 each 
if not published on the co-operative plan ; and he predicted that in '87 the paper might be made 
self-supporting. Its original heading was superseded by a more artistic design when the fourth 
semi-annual volume began,— Jan. 7, '87,— but its paper and typography have both been cheap- 
ened since the removal to Boston. 


Tbe League's Tnnsporution Committee has won two noUble victories since last July, when 
iq). 594-6 were electrotyped. At end of Dec., the N. Y. Central r. r. issued orders that a pas- 
Koger's bicycle be carried free ou local trains, in place of other baggage, provided he presented 
it to baggageman, ten minutes before traiu-time, and signed a release of liability. Another im- 
portam trunk-line, the Chicago & Northwestern, against which wheelmen have sometimes spoken 
hard words, adopted the same enlightened system in April, and regularly announces in the offi- 
cial time-tables that bicycles can be checked as baggage. I have also found the following addi- 
tional free lines named in the BicycU Sotdk (Aug., '66) : Alabama Great Southern ; Cincinnati 
Southern ; Georgia Pacific ; Louisville, New Oilcans & Texas ; Mobile & Ohio; New Orleans 
& Northeastern; Newport News & Miss, Valley (Va.. May i, 'S/), Vicksbun>& Meridian; 
Vicksburg, Shreveport & Pacific. Several of these have been secured by C. H. Genslinger, and 
the latest information about Southern r. r.'s may be had on applying to him at ii6 Gravier st.. 
New Orleans. W. P. Way, of Belleville, Ont., in behalf of the C. W. A. Trans. Com. re- 
potted these free roads, Oct. 12, '86, in addition to the 7 more-imporunt ones on p. 59S : Canada 
Atlantic, Central Ontario, Kingston & Pemboke, Napanee & Tamworth, New Brunswick 
Quebec Central, South Eastern. 

London Assurancb.~I am obliged to withdraw the mild recommendatiou made upon pp. 
642,691, tliat Americans subscribe for the "C. T. C," as the cheapest device forgetting an 
English monthly which would tell them about foreign touring. On p. 642, I explain how its 
editor is the real executive chief of the concern which nominally employs him ; and on p. 691 
be writes himself down as a very ill-mannered person ; but I had assumed he was at least an 
honest one, — however supercilioiu and autocratic,— until he gave public testimony to the con- 
trary, under oath as a witness, " in the High Court of Justice, Queen's Bench Division, before 
Mr. Justice Wills and a common jury," Monday, Nov. 22, 18S6. This date may properly be 
remsmbered as marking when the C. T. C. was " foundered in London,"— in contrast to 
"Aug. 5, '78," when it was " founded at Harrogate." The " Sec. -Ed." appeared as plaintiff 
in a libel suit for $1000 against the writer and the publisher of a column-article in Cycling Times 
of July 7, '85, called "The Promptings of Duly are Inexorable "—which article was chiefly 
given to ridiculing the pretensions of the Gaztttt as of business value to its advertisers and of 
liienry value to its readers. This was from the pen of a certain J. B. Marsh, of the editorial 
■tafF of the Stuttdard, a leading London daily ; and the fact of his quarter-century's connection 
with the press of that city, and authorship of some 16 books, would seem to show his age as 
about so. An insolent attack upon him in the Gazette of May, '84,— exposing a purely private 
" touring challenge " of his to a Boston acquaintance (J. S. Phillips, lit. ed. of Wheelman ; see 
pp. 258, 656), written by agreement upon the window-pane of an Alpine inn, — led him to investi- 
gate the sort of government which thus gave an " official editor " full power to send over the 
world printed ridicule and sarcasm of all such C. T. C. members as might not be pleasing to 
bim. The result was a series of six artichs signed "Anti- Humbug," which exposed with un- 
pleasant clearness the need of " C. T. C. Reform " ; and, inferentially, the hopelessness of it 
without first getting rid of the autocrat who was making a good living out of the perpetuation of 
abuses. These pieces appeared in many of the cycling papers ; and were followed by an attempt 
of their author, at a C. T. C. semi-annual meeiing of Dec, '84,— the largest ever held,— to em- 
body them in legislation, as recorded in Gaxette. The natural failure of this attempt naturally 
led the " Sec-Ed." to grow more boldly abusive, until at last he had the temerity to undertake 
the libel suit. Meanwhile, our Philadelphian artist, J. Pennell, had chanced to send a letter 
from Italy to the Gazette, in reproof of something which two young .\merican riders had printed, 
and he closed by saying that people " did not want such exaggerated stories." The " Sec- Ed." 
inlerpolated the words, *' nor the vaporings of elderly quidnuncs^''* and printed the whole over 
J. P. 's signature, afterwards telling him that the forged phrase was designed to apply to J. B. 
Maish. Hence, as soon as the libel-suit opened, and the latter's counsel had got the " Sec-Ed." 
plaintiff in the witness-box, they promptly extorted from him a confession of the foiigery, and 
"he admitted that these words were meant to refer to Mr. Marsh, the writer of the alleged libel. 


The Judge here intervened, and Inquired whether it was not unnecessary, after this evidence, to 
proceed wiih the case." ** Surely it was no use wasting more time over such an action." 

The defendant's counsel, however, not content with this signal victory, persisted in examin- 
ing other witnes.scs, including H. Sturmey, editor of the Cyclist^ who testified that, as a mem- 
ber of the firm of Iliffe & Sturmey, " he was interested in the proprietorship of several cycling 
publications," and "drew commission on work introduced to Iliffe & Son." The object o£ 
forcing this admission was to justify Mr. M.'s charge of "jobbery in the award of printing con- 
tracts " ; for the lilffes print the Gazette and other issues of the C. T. C. (though, in notaUe 
contrast to the almost universal custom in England, and to their own custom in all other cases, 
they omit their imprint from the final page), and Mr.S. was a member of the " C. T. C. Council/* 
whose rules forbid the award of any contract to a firm in which one of themselves is interested. 
This " jobbery " does not necessarily imply any corruption or unfair dealing in the case, but it 
explains why the Cyclist ^ Bi. News, and other publications controlled by the lliffes (or " Cov- 
entry ring ") studiously support the C T. C. Gazette in the policy of " suppression, division 
and silence." None of those prints has ever contained the facts here related, though the 
London Times deemed them imp>ortant enough to include in its law-courts reports of Nov. 23, 
together with the scorching reprimand which Mr. Justice Wills administered to the " Sec-Ed.'* 
(in refusing to tolerate him longer as a plaintiff in his court), " for having indulged in the lowest 
and vulgarcsl abuse of the worst form of journalism." IVkeeling of Nov. 24 and Dec. x also 
reproduced the remarks of the indignant judge ; and I myself liave taken pains to proclaim them 
in this country {Bulletin, Dec. 31, p. 635; IVh. G.iz., Feb., p. 178, Apr., p. 18; /?/. World, 
Mar. 25; lyheel, Mar. 11, Apr. 8, 29; CanadLin Wheelman, May, p. 75), in order to warn 
Americans against sending over any more subscriptions in support of the concern, so long as it 
continues in the control of a self-confessed forger. Faiih in him, however, seems not yet to be 
lost by the Boston Englishman who gave the C. T. C. its first foothold in this country (p. 643), 
for he has just "actively resumed the duties of its Chief Consulship in the U. S.,*' after an- 
nouncing (5/. World, Apr. i, p. 386) that, as regards the likelihood of sending the forger into 
retirement, he " doss not believe that the decision of the club will be influenced in the slightest 
by the scurrilous attacks " made by Mr. Justice Wills, in metaphorically kicking him out of 
court, last November. Wheeling's leading editorial of Jan. 26 — while protesting against his 
policy that " everything undertaken by the club should be with the idea of making money out of 
it," and demanding his " immediate removal from the position of editor, in which he has proved 
a conspicuous failure,"— likewise said : "As secretary, he is emphatically the right man in the 
right place, and it would be im^wssible to find a belter one anywhere.'* Yet the writers of that 
paper are never tired of making sarcastic comments on his minor weaknesses and dishonesties,— 
such as his trying to palm off at a good stiff price the new badge, " pirated " from the patented 
emblem of the L. A. W. (p. 639), even though that body's Executive Committee were ordered, 
at the Doard meeting of Jan. 18, '87, to protest against such discreditable appropriation of its 
property. The Giizette of Apr., '87, offers three columns of comment and testimony to prove the 
" marvelous popularity " of this theft, which it calls an " invention," saying : " No decision of 
modern times has given half as much satisfaction as that of the Badge Committee.'* It says, 
also, that the first plnn of swinging this trumpery gewgaw by a chain from a bar-brooch has 
proved so unpopubr that there has been substituted for it " a fastening of new design/'— which 
novelty, Wliecling declares, was " stolen from Vaughton." 

The same paper of Mar. 16, also prepared from the misleading jumble of official figures in 
that month's Gazette, " a statement of C. T. C. finances for '86,"— similar to its tables for '85, 
summarized on p. 641,— showing a profit of ;?5257 <>" the sales of uniforms for ;^34>545> a»da 
loss of ^8500 on •' the magazine in which its editor can vilify its enemies and amiable lunatics 
can write twaddle." The Gazette cost 5^9101 for printing and %i\<fo for postage (or a total, with 
|k 1000 assumed for clerical expenses, of #15,297) ; while its income from adv., " after deducting the 
Sec-Ed. 's commission of $f/>7/' was $6809. Though adv. receipts were nearly 1^2000 greater 
than in *85, the net loss was $1670 greater. The " total expenditures in the cause of cydmg '* 
were $7.70 for danger-boards (as compared to $55 in '85), a gift of $125 to the I. C. A. road fund. 


and I64 for Cotterell fund. " These accounts prove that, except as a trading concern, the C. T. 
C cannot live, and, even with a large profit in this respect, the Mammoth Bluff is stiU losing 
money. The N. C. U., despite all faults, is in every way its superior, — being, by contrast, 
essentially unselfish, and conferring benefits upon its members and non-members alike " ( \y heel- 
ings Mar. 23). An adv. in the TimtSt by the " Sec.-£d.," dated Mar. 36, and asking the Board 
of Trade " to inccHporate the C. T. C without the word ' limited,' " in spite of former refusal 
(p. 642), was quoted by Wheeling of Apr. 13, with the remark that neither the Gazette^ Cyclist 
nor BL News had mentioned it, though its legal object was to warn all objectors that they must 
make their reasons of opposition known " on or before Apr. 25." The Cycling Journal of 
same week in commenting on the adv., said : " When S. Ineson, a former treasurer, absconded 
with the club's funds, he did so with impunity ; because the club, not being an incorporated 
society, could not have prosecuted him, even if he could have been apprehended. Curiously 
enough, the man himself had been the earliest one to suggest the incorporation." Considering 
how even a man whose reputation for honesty was generally accepted would, as publisher of a 
monthly trade-circular like the GazeiU, be subject to many suspicions of secretly selling out its 
columns to tradesman for his own gain, — ^the retention in such position of a forger, six months 
after his public expulsion from court, seems a striking sign of the slowness and apathy and low 
mofal-tone of the sort of Englishmen who support the C. T. C. The eager indignation with 
which American wheelmen threw overboard /Ar/r unworthy " Sec-Ed.," whose defalcation had 
di^raced the L. A. W., seems all the more creditable by force of the contrast. Yet it is a fact 
that the chief upholder of the English concern in America had the assurance to address three 
colomns of argument to them in the Bulletin of December 31, uiging that it had some claim up- 
on their support " because of its spirit of unselfishness^^* and that, if it is fortunate enough to 
retain the services of the noble " Sec-Ed.," whom Mr. Justice Wills exposed to the world as a 
foiger, it nuy finally expand into a " grand C. T. C. universal." His " scheme for international 
devebpmeni of C. T. C." was formulated in Bi. lV<frldoi Mar. ji, and reproduced on the 
first five pages of the April Gazette. " Working details are to be filled in later," he says, as is 
apt to be the custom in cases of such grandeur. 

Testimony to the lower " average morality " and sodal standing of F.nglish wheelmen in 
oompari&on to American — as illustrated by the ability of a self-confessed fuiger to keep himself 
in command among the former, with an ease which seems surprising to the latter— was given in 
a letter to the Cyclist (Feb. 20, '87, p. 457), by J. S. Whatton,— a Camb. grad. of '84 whose biog. 
is on p. 544, — saying : " The N. C. U. appears curiously unable to attract the ' leisured class,' 
and especially so in the centers. The non-club members of it are either utterly careless of cy- 
cling politics, or they are misinformed and consequently wrong-headed." Maj. Gen. L. R. 
Christopher and G. H. W. Courtney were chosen to represent these non-club members on the 
Executive, at the annual election of Feb. 3, '87, when the votes which chose the 16 regular 
members thereof stood as follows : M. D. Kucker, loa ; G. P. Coleman, 99 ; R. L. Philpot, 
94 ; F. G. Dray, 91 ; G. H. Green, 91 ; A. Front, 89, R. E. Phillips, 88 ; — F. Thomas, 89 ; 
W.J. Harvey, 88; E. B. Turner, 87; H. F. Wilson, 87; T. Pulton, 77; S. B. Mason, 71; 
F. Lindsay-Simpson, 71 ; T. H. Holding, 64 ; E. Sherriff. 64. The 7 names before the dash 
represent the only men of the old board who were re-elected,— being a minority of all,— and the 
J lowest on the list gained places there only by the throwing out of 35 proxy votes from Liverpool 
and Glasgow, because these were known to be pledged to 3 opponents of "amateurism," whose 
aaoal votes stood thus: F. P. Low, 41; H. Etherington, 35; J. G. Smith, 32. Among the 
9 men dropped from the old board was the " Sec. -Ed. of C. T. C," who took pains to assert 
that he " had received votes enough for a renomination but declined to stand," and who was 
formally praised by the '* Sec. of N. C. U." as " a gentleman to whom the Union had been 
greatly indebted in many ways," though he himself was one of the lawyers that brought him to 
book for forgery on the memorable Nov. 22. The Sec himself, R. Todd, on motion of his 
kmg-time censor, W. McCandlish, of Wheeling ^ "received a unanimous vote of confidence, ami^ 


loud applause/* and was re-elected with the other three officers : Lord Bury, Prea. ; W. B. 
Tanner, V. Pres., A. K. Sheppee, Treas. The latter's ** financial scheme " was adopted ai a 
council-meeting of Apr. 2t, with only 5 dissenting votes from among the 70 delegates present, 
while the proxy votes were also in its favor, 52 to 13. The scheme orders the Executive to in- 
corporate the following changes in their rules : " (i) That the subscription to the Union be at 
the rate of $1.25 per annum for all members, the representation being at the rate of one delegate 
for every 25 members, and each member shall be entitled to a copy of the N. C. U. Review, 
(3) That affiliated dubs shall subscribe |2.62 per annum, and shall be entitled to one delegate 
on the Council, provided there be more than 10 members, but in the event of an affiliated club 
possessing more than 25 members, it shall have the option of appointing another delegate for 
every 25 members or portion thereof on payment of an additional $2.63 for every 25 members 
or portion thereof. (3) That Local Centers shall retain $1.37 per 1(2.62 of the subscription of 
each affiliated club, and 37 c. of the subscription of each member, and that all copies of the Re- 
view or agenda be sent from the head office direct to members." 

The foregoing is intimately related to the fact that on Jan. i, '87, the Anfield B. C, of 
Liverpool (which seems to be the most active and important riding club in Great Britain, judged 
by the records on road and path accredited to its exceptionally large membership), addressed to 
the N. C. U. Council a manifesto demanding 5 reforms, with a bold threat of secession and war 
in case of refusal. The document begins thus : " (i) We ask for the instant rescission of all 
sentences of suspension passed, not only upon riders who are suspected of ' makers' amateur- 
ism,' but also upon men who have been suspended for competing against the said riders. Our 
view of the matter b, that neither the N. C. U., nor, indeed, any power upon earth, can prevent 
riders receiving (if they so desire) from manufacturers remuneration in some shape or form for 
services rendered ; and it is evident that great injury will be done to the s}>ort by barring from 
amateur competitions men who are probably the very best and most straightforward riders in 
the kingdom, and who have been singled out as examples because their splendid performances 
have made them too conspicuous." The lesser demands are, in brief : *' (3) Equal rights of 
the provinces with London, in the fixing and management of championships. (3; Instant re- 
peal of the law fixing the maximum value of prizes at %^h. (4) The allowing of winners to se- 
lect their prizes. (5) Deletion of the rule which prevents professionals from acting as pace- 
makers for amateurs." In answer to this, the Sec. of N. C. U. issued a sophistical defense of 
" amateurism " (covering 5 columns of IVheeling, Jan. 26), insisting that the first demand 
" should be unhesitatingly rejected, as its admission would render the Union a laughing-stock 
among amateurs " ; but he made no effort to controvert any of the logic in the Wheeling series 
(by J. R. Hogg, see p. 649) which so cleverly exposed why "amateurism" itself is such a 
laughing-stock among men-of-the-world ; and, " from start to finish he gave not a single hint, 
suggestion, or admission, that his opponents could possibly be actuated by worthy motives." 
The angry Liverpool men, on the other hand, took no firm stand on logically unassailable 
ground ; but proclaimed, rather, the good old hypocritical maxim that they " favored the law 
but were agin' the enforcement of it." In other words, they prattled against the " injustice of 
suspending a rider on suspicion of ha^ng violated the rule of * amateurism,* and forcing him to 
actively prove his innocence,"— though the only possible chance of giving effect to any such 
piece of social etiquette as " the amateur law " is by resort to just this reversal of ordinary legal 
processes. A. sufficient answer to all twaddle about "unfairness," "star chamber justice." 
lettres de cachet and the like, is the fact that no one innocent of violating "amateurism ** need 
have the least difficulty in proving his innocence. The real unfairness lies in the impossibility 
of applying the rule of " suspension on suspicion " with any uniformity, or of punishing any 
large number of "the guilty." Hence, as Wheeling says, "to those behind the scenes, the 
collection of suspended goats on the one side and honored sheep on the other is highly amus- 
ing, and we are only sorry that Mr. Todd and his colleagues have not a keener sense of the 
ridiculous. If they had, they would probably soon add a sense of what was just." This lack of 
a sense of humor was further shown at the meeting of Feb. 3, when Mr. T., having defeated by 
a vote of 121 to 38 the Liverpool men*s attack on "amateurism," immediately put through 


a Iwtvthirds vote to rescind the decree of the la»t previous meeting, Dec. 9, which had by a 
bore majority reduced the allowable maximum value of prizes from 1^52 to 1^36. The author 
of this I eduction was W. McCandiish, of It'' fueling ; who thus proved anew the hollowness of the 
"amateurs*" assumed preference for "glory," by forcing them to show how quickly they 
would compel the vacillating Council to give them a larger slice of something more tangible. 

Obedient to the threat of the Anfield B. C, the Liverpool Local Center of the N. C. U. 
was dissolved, Mar. i, and this act represented the withdrawal of about 1000 men; the leader 
of whom declares that if the Council dares to go on in its avowed policy of suspension, " there 
wf!l be two sets of championships fought out in England on identical days ; otherwise, sport 
must cease to exist." These words are from his letter 10 Whreling ol Apt. 6; and the edi- 
torial comment is this : " The public may rest assured that there will be no more suspensions. 
Meantime, the victims selected for immolation upon the altar of outraged amateurism are to 
stand down from th;ir wheels and loolc on at those who are in exactly the same position as them- 
selves in some cases, and in much worse position in others, winning amateur races." The N. C. 
U. races are all to bs run at Birmingham (.May 30, July 2, 4, 23, Aug. i), having been farmed 
out at a fixed sum to the owner of the Aston grounds there, who assumes all the risk. " The 
interests of sport appear thus to have been utterly ignored in pursuit of the one object of money- 
gaining, and it looks very much as though the Executive had been iilfluenced by a desire to 
cement the loyalty of the Birmingham Local Center, by this exceptional favor " So says the 
Cycling Journal of Mar. 35 ; to which the Cyclist of Mar. 30 responds thus : " Tlie fact re- 
mains that, as th2 C. T. C. finds its uniform department to be indispensable, so the Union, 
under the present circumsLinces, must have funds from its championships, and these funds must 
be a certainty." Its total income in '86 was #1725 and its expenses exceeded this by $845, ex- 
clusive of a loss of $750 ciused by running the championships according to " amateurism " (see 
p. 648). Of its income, 1^225 came from racing-permits and entry-forms, and the rest from mem- 
bership fees, exclusive of the half wliich the Local Centers retained forborne use, by rule on p.648. 
The treastirer's estimate of Mar. 30 was that, with the utmost economy, the '87 expenses must 
exceed the '86 income by at least $150, while the '87 income would at the same time (under the 
old system) fall below that of '86 by $350 to %%oo^—<in account of the secession of many impor- 
tant clubs, — a total deficit of at least S500. Whether the new scheme of Increasing the fees 
from 25 c. to %\.2% will prove popular enough to save the Union from threatened dissolution, 
experience only can decide. Wheeling's plan of a racing register, requiring an entry fee of 
$1.25 from each competitor (p. 649), met with so little acceptance at the meeting of Feb. 3 that 
it was withdrawn without a vote ; but that paper nevertheless gives its hearty support to the 
actual scheme of the new Executive, saying : " If it fails, the Union will surely die ; and it 
would be a crying disgrace to the wheel craft, if we were left without any governing body at 
all " (Mar. 30). " With all its faults, it is preferable to the intolerable autocracy of the C. T. C. ; 
and the latter's recent appeal to the Board of Trade for incorporation implies a design of swal- 
lowing the Union, if ever its membership gets reduced to 1000 or even to 2000 " (Apr. 20). In 
one of several letters, urging the formation of a separate Scottish Union, the following words 
appear : " The N. C. U. is only national on paper, and, in reality, is limited to London and 
the Southern English counties. It is not merely local in its popularity, but also local in its 
feeling." The new managers promise, however, that, if supported, they will pay more atten- 
tion than formeriy to matters outside of racing. Thus, as regards repressive loqil by-laws they 
say : " If cyclists are still required to carry lights, the Executive will, as opportunity arises, 
seek to secure that the protection they are bound to give others shall be extended to themselves, 
by an enactment requiring other vehicles to carry lights." 

Books. — My 474lh page, written in Dec, '85, says : " ' From San Francisco to Teheran,* 
a simple reprint of the Ouiing series by T. Stevens, would make a more readable book than any 
existing specimens of cycling literature, even if his destruction in China should prevent the ex- 
pected enlargement of it into 'Around the World on a Bicycle.' " As a matter of fact, the first 


volume of the latter is to be published this May by the Scribners, of N. Y., having the former 
phrase as an ahemativc title upon each left-hand page. The pages are about 5 by 8 in. in size, 
and there are 547 of them, exclusive of the introductory ones containing a dedication to Col. A. 
A. Pope, a short preface by Col. T. W. Higginson, and lists of the no illustrations and of the 
a I chapter-titles, which arc identical with those employed in Outing. The frontispiece is a col- 
ored lithograph of the author, " as he appeared when riding round the world," but it is too 
much idealized to be recognizable as a portrait, though I believe a fairly-good one, from a photo- 
graph, appears upon a later page. Except for a few revisions and corrections, the text has not 
been changed from the form first given in magazine. The type is laigc and dear, carrying 475 
words to the page (40 lines of about 12 words), so that the total does not exceed 230,000, — allow- 
ing 30,000 for space taken by pictures and blanks. There are no indexes. Tlie price is ^4, and 
an autographed copy will be mailed by the author himself, on receipt of that sum at Outing 
office, 140 Nassau st., N. Y. His personal profit on each volume thus sold will be four times as 
great as on a copy sold by his publishers through the bookstores ; and these ordinary trade copies 
will not have the autograph. The ist ed. in N. Y. will be 2000, and a similar issue will probably 
be made simultaneously in London, by S. Low, Marston & Co., from plates which were shipped 
to them by the Scribners, Apr. 30. Englishmen may send orders for autographed copies, 
through H. Sturmey, of Coventry, or directly to the author, for i6s. 6d. On the last line of my 
own story of his wonderful tour (pp. 473-84, 570-2), I was able to announce his safe arrival at 
the starting point, San Francisco, Jan. 7. The cycling clubs kept him there for a week, to en- 
joy elaborately-planned ceremonies of welcoms ; and he Mras lioniz?d with great heartiness at 
several other points, until at last he reached N. Y., Feb. 13, where the Citizens B. C. had 
arranged a batiquet in his honor, which was held Feb. 23, while the Mass. B. C. entertained 
him similarly at Boston, Feb. 25. He then accepted an engagement to edit the cycling depart- 
ment of Outings and to continue therein the series of monthly articles, completing his adventures 
in Asia, which series will ultimately be republished in a second large volume. His first attempt 
at a book ms., "Across America " (see p. 474, where my remark about his " school days ending 
at iS " ought to read " 14 '*), is not to be printed, though extracts may be occasionally used, as 
in the series of four pieces for HarJ^r^s Young People. By invitation of local wheelmen, he 
has delivered lectures at Scranton, Apr. 12 ; Brooklyn, i6th ; Washington, 20th ; Auburn, aad; 
Cleveland, May 4 ; Hartford, 6th ; and the success of these has been sufficient to lead to a regu- 
lar engagement as a lecturer during the autumn and winter of '87-8, under the management of 
Major Pond, to whom should be addressed all communications on the subject, at the Everett 
House, Union Square, N. Y. 

As I declared when Stevens reached Teheran that his adventure seemed to me " the most 
remarkable and interesting exploit ever accomplished by a bicycle or ever likely to be accom- 
plished ** (p. 483), and predicted that his report of it would prove '* more interesting to the gen- 
eral reader than any cycling book in existence " (p. 655), I am glad now to make room for 
these two extracts from the English press, which his publishers use in heralding the actual 
book : " Mr. Thomas Stevens need have little doubt that the most .splendid piece of personal 
adventure of this century will be placed to his credit. Vambrfry making the great pilgrimage as 
a dirvish, Burnaby riding to Khiva, O' Donovan penetrating to Merv — to mention only the first 
that come to mind, will always rank high in the annals of daring : but for the originality of its 
idea, the physical endurance and pluck necessary for its execution, the dangers involved in it, and 
its own inhereiit interest, this bicycle trip round the world will pretty certainly remain unequaled 
in our lime " {Pall Mall Gazette^ " The mere moral courage demanded of the man who essays 
an expedition into regions where such an outlandish carriage has never before been seen is suffi- 
ciently notable to entitle Mr. Stevens to the credit which he will no doubt obtain for his plucky 
exploit. No man who honors courage, pluck, endurance — no man who is capable of understand- 
ing those qualities — will feel anything but admiration for him. To circle the earth on a wheel is 
in itself a novelty, and as a method of seeing around one it is also a great deal more effective 
than any other method" {London StancLvrd). I think it worth while, also, to add, as illustra- 
tive of the cheap sneers thrown out by the English cycling papers, even at the very time when the 


trareler was facing his greatest dangeni, the following foot-note to a letter in C. T. C. GeuetU 
of Oct. (p. 414), whose writer said he had been asked, in a remote French town, " if he was the 
man riding round the world." The editorial forger whom Mr. Justice Wills censured, the next 
month, for having " indulged in the most vulgar abuse and in the worst style," improved the 
dunce to say : ** Refers to Stevens, who is carrying out an advertising ride for the American 
joomol Outing.'''* As regards that magasine itself, the following letter was received by me from 
ill chief editor. Mar. 19, in correction of my remark on p. 660 : " In Dec, '85, Col. Pope sold 
the controlHng interest to a syndicate of New York gentlemen, and, in Feb., '87, I bought the 
balance of his stock. No one at present owns any share in it except the following, who form 
the board of directors ol the Outing Co.: P. Bigelow, pres. and ed.; W. H. Schumacher, sec. 
and treas.; T. Stevens, C. E. Clay, C. B. Vaux, Le Grand Benedict. All of these are wheel- 
men except the last,~the advertising manager,~and he has a son now in coUege who rides the 
bicycle. In addition to (his office suff. Outing is assisted by an outside body of s'pecialists, on 
sponing subjects, and it is absolutely free from all connection with any manufacturing or trade 
interest. With every indication that cycling is once more, under T. Stevens, to take the old 
place of honor in iu pages, we may safely predict for Outing a permanent career of increasing 
oacfulneas in its special field." 

" Pedal and Path " (33 chapters, 250 pp., about 140,000 words, 2$ or 30 engravings, price 
75c. ; Hartford : Ths Evening Pott Association, June, '87) is ths title finally adopted for the 
book which I have indexed on p. Ixxv. as " From Ocean to Ocean on a Bicycle." Its author 
is G. B. Thayer (b. May 13, '53), who was a grocer's clerk at Vernon, Ct., *69-'7i, then a grocer 

00 his own aoooimt till the close of '85, and who has been employed since Nov., '86, in the office 
of the newspaper named,— having served it as correspondent during the tour, which he also 
briefly outlined in Bulletin^ Sept. 30, Nov. 13. He rode the bone-shaker in '7o-'73 ; first 
mounted the bi. in '83 ; rode 1047 ti- in '84, ind. a day's run of 100 m. to New Haven and back ; 
and 3564 m. in '85, ind. June tour of 175 m. along the Sound, Sept. tour of 480 m. through R. 
I., and Oct. and Nov. tour of 1300 m. through White Mtn's (p. 576). He had only 3 falls in '85, 
when be rode 13S6 m. without a fall, 1V96 m. in 3 months, and 801 m. in 38 days. His '86 tour 
began at Vernon, Apr. 10, and ended at Baltimore, after 4236 m. of wheeling, and nearly 7000 m. 
of r. r. and s. s. travel,— the total outlay for the entire period being only $280. He used a Lakin 
cydoro., a corduroy suh with leather seat, carried a knapsack on shoulders, and rode a 46 in. Ex- 
pert, whose full record was thus increased to 7900 m., without putting it at all out of condition. 
A break in its head, on return tour in Kansas, was the only one serious enough to cause delay, 
and he had only 3 falls which forced him to drop the machine, and these caused him no hurt. 
His longest day's ride was 76 ra., best stretch of riding was from Columbus to Indianapolis, and 
kogesi straightaway was from Vernon to Omaha, nearty 1900 m. He there took train to Den- 
ver, and afterwards used both r. r. and s. s. in exploring California and Oregon, and on homeward 
trip, as he joanieyed for the pleasure of it, and not to make a " record,"— paying his own ex- 
penses and receiving no gift or stipend from any one. In this respect he diffsred notably from 
two other cross-continent riders of '86, who were commisdoned by the Pope Mfg. Co. The 
firatof these. F. E. Van Meerbeke (b. about 1865), left the N. Y. City Hall at noon of Mar. i, 
and wheeled to Lynchburg, Va.. 435 m., in 133 h. of actual riding; then by Atlanta, Montgom- 
eiy, New Orleans, Houston, and Tucson, to Yuma (Ariz), Aug. 18, when he reported 3313 m. 
wheeled in the loS days from N. Y., and said he expected to reach San Francisco on Sept. 10. 

1 bdieve he did get there then, though forced to take train at certain places on account of floods. 
My three letters inquiring for details never brought an answer; neither did the cycling press of 
'•S ever allude to his " tour from N. Y. to Denver and back," which the papers of '86 vaRuely 
accredited him with having taken then. The other '86 long-distance man employed by the 
Popes wa»S. G. Spier (b. Nov. 9, '64), of New Lebanon, N. Y., who started from Albany 
June I and reached San Frandsco Sept. 9,— adhering pretty dosely to the route of T. Stevens. 
I devoted a day to making an abstract of the type-written copy of his daily log, but am unable 
to priat it for want of space. I think he really covered the distance, but his mileage figures are 
entixdy untnutwortby, though professedly taken from Church cydom., which Salt Lake City 


men report t» me as out of order at that point. The BL World of Oct. 23 (p. 592) pnnted a 
" claim " from him, as having rid(l<:n 21 1 m. io la h. ai Oakland, C;il., Sept. 16, and again 113 m. 
in 13 h. on Sept. 24; and his character is further shown by the fact that, after writing the ex- 
pected puff of his 52 in. Expert as " the best/' he sold puffs of other nukes as " the best." A 
tourist who followed his trail through the Mohiwk valley, a week later, has also perpetuated 
the memory of his boastf ulness, in the second of a scries of agreeably humorous sketches ( Wh, 
GnM,^ Aug. to Nov.), called" From the Hub to Hoosierdom." This was P. C. Danow(b. 
Mar., '61), an Indianapolis printer, 5 ft. 10 in. high, weight 140 lbs., who had lidden 800 m. on a 4S 
in. Star in '85, and 800 m. on a 54 in. Expert in *8S, previous to June 2, when he began at Boston 
a homeward tour of about 950 m. in 19 days. Tlic distance is " estimated," because his new 
Butcher cyclometer stopped working on the fifth day from the start. He took train. Providence 
to Hartford, 68 m., Cleveland to Ft. Wayne, 45 ra., and boat from Erie to Cleveland; and 
he took his leisure all the rest of the way while wheeling. " As for loneliness,*' he said, " the 
contact with ever-varying classes and conditions of people, and ever-changing landscapes, made 
it impossible ; but I, for one, will run the risk of being lonesome rather than being bored." 

The high-water mark of English achievement in the shape of wheeling literature seems to 
have been reached, at the close of March, by the issue of the volume called ** Cyding" (Lou- 
den : Longmans, Green & Co., 10 s. 6 d.), in the series known as Badminton Library of Sports 
and Pastimes ; see p. 6S7. It is imported at Boston by Little, Brown & Co., at $3.50 in doth 
or $^ in half morocco, and their adv. says : " 472 pp., illust. by 19 full-page plates and 60 wood- 
cuts," though the text is elsewhere named as covering 442 pp., and the " phenomenally com- 
plete and copious index "17 pp. in double-column. The 14 chapter-titles are as follows : Intro 
ductoiy (by Lord Bury, very generally praised) ; historical ; riding ; radng ; touring ; training ; 
dress ; dubs ; tricycling for ladies ; radng paths ; N. C. U. ; C. T. C. ; construction ; the 
press and literature. Tlie last-named is the shortest and the one preceding it the longest, 
"covering 125pp., i^om which even veterans who have watched the progress of wheels from 
the bone-shaker stage may derive some information. The whole volume is quite unprecedented, 
and forms the most elaborate and complete exposition otf the sport yet issued " {,Cyc. J<mr., 
Apr. i). " It will be interesting reading to the practical cyclist ; and the man who is going to 
cycle will find every item of information necessary at hand " (Bi. News^ Apr. 3). '* The price 
b higher than the general run of cycling publications, but, as the book is got up in the best style 
of binding, it is quite worth the money and will take its place on any drawing-room table. It is 
a complete compendium upon everything connected with cyding " {Cyciat, Apr. 13). " It is 
the most complete and interesting book of the kind we have ever read, and supplies a regular 
mine of information, and as a book of reference is invaluable " {Irish Cyclist <&• AthleU^ Apr. 13X 
" The book is the best that has yet been issued, and is honestly worth the 10 s. 6 d. charged 
for it " {Wheeliftg, Apr. 20). " It is essentially English, and is meant to be. Only the slight* 
est reference is made to cycling outside the British Isles, and even in the ' historical ' chapter 
America is almost entirely ignored. Yet no wheelman can afford to be without ' Cycling ' on 
his book-shelf, for this work is by far the best ever printed " {Bi. World, May 13). The pict- 
ures supplied by J. Pennell meet with the approval of all the critics, while those fathered by 
Lord Bury are as unanimously condemned. The Cycling Journal says the latter's " description 
of the mode of government of the C. T. C. is intensely amusing, fun being poked at the auto- 
cratic secretary in a good humored way, that can scarcely arouse the wrath of that offidal him- 
self " ;— whence it would appear that the Viscount Ukes a more jocose view of literary foixery 
than did Mr. Justice Wills. Most of the hard work in compiling the volume is to be accredited 
to G. Lacy Hillier, ed. of Bi. Nnvs and of the cyding dept. of Land ^ Wafer, who requests 
that newspaper notices of it be mailed to him at 24 Beckenham Road, Penge, London, S. E. 

" Wanderings : on Wheel and on Foot through Europe," by Hugh Callan (I.ondon : S. 
Ia)W, Marslon & Co.; about 250 pp. ; illust.; 50 c), will probably appear eariy in June. His 
biog. is given on p. 54$, and he first gained notoriety in the cyding world by winning the $350 
prise offered by Til Bits, a London penny-paper, for the best story of adventures on the wheel, 
--printed Dec 4f *86. As reproduced at Boston, in the CyeWs final issue, Jan. ai, it covered 


• trifle more than two pases. A similar spacs was given by HTkegiifigr, Dec 19, to the unsac- 
cessfuJ narrative of A. M. BoUon (p. 549)i " believed to be the only cycling journalist of the 
metropoUs who competed " ; and a comparison of the two may help to show the probable " lit- 
erary standard " by which such things are judged in England. In a letter to the Cyc/tsi of 
Jan. Si defending his prize-piece from ibe charge of Munchausenbm, Mr. C. alluded to the re- 
pon of one of his tours as liaving been printed in the FuiUi^Ozi, z6, 2$, %o ; Nov. 13); and it 
elsewhere appears that in '85 he drove his 52 in. Challenge 1 100 m. on the Continent, and in '86 
1500 m. there, besides 3000 m. on British roads. His letter to me of Apr. 30, '87, says : " First 
put wi.l tell of my 'd6 ride from Hamburg to the i£gean sea and Athens ; second, of my '85 
ride from Amsterdam up the Rhine to Geneva and back to Antwerp ; third, of my '81 tramp in 
France and Belgiumi when I sl^pt in the fields and worked my passage as a sailor, after money 
was spent. Book is descriptive, anecdotal, historical, ethnological,— not a bare narrative, but an 
attempt to blend my own adventures with the spirit of the places, and to enter with a human in- 
terest into the life of the various people met on the way. As to odometers, 1 last year used 
Uuderwood's, because it is the lightest. It dropped o£E after 1400 m, were done ; but the med- 
duDg of inquisitive hands doubtless had somethmg to do with its failure." 

The lliffes, of Coventry, issued in Dec a shilling book called " Two Trips to the Emerald 
Isle, by ' Faed,* — embracing a Racing Trip to Dublin and a Touring Trip to Killarney." The 
ttyle is unconventional and quite free from political allusions. A half-dosen full-page litho- 
Kraphs by G. Moore are inserted, and there are a dozen lesser pictures in the text, which covers 
58 pp., 8^ by 6i in., and is accompanied by 17 pp. of adv. The same publishers, author and 
price are to be recorded for " Th: PUasores, Objects and Advantages of Cycling," whose Jan. 
adv. called it *' the most interesting and highly illustrated cycling work yet published." Its 
sine chapter-titles are as follows : Why cycling captivates ; the history of cycles and cycling ; my 
experiences of Safety bicyc'ing ; ths utilitarian aspect of cycling ; cycling as a pastime ; cycle 
radog ; curiosities of cycling ; a charming Tandem spin ; the literature of cycling. (For author's 
biog. see p. 534.) Late in '86, the Iliff ^s issued "Abridgments of Patents Relating to Veloci- 
pedes, 181S to 1S83," by R. E. Phillips (see pp. 550, 683), strongly bound in cloth, at 
IS ; and they announce in preparation a second volume, covering the patents of the year 'Af, 
wfaen the new act went into effect, at $2.62,— though advance subscribers, limited to 100, can 
be enrolled at $1.87. A cheaper edition of Vol. I. (310 pp.; paper covers) appeared in Feb., at 
ls.25, which was the advance subscription price of the bound copies. " Cycledom : the 
Christmas Number and Year Book of th ^ Cyclist for 1886-7," wras perhaps the most eUborate 
and costly amount of such material ever offered for a, for it contains 114 pp., ix by 8 
in., with 15 lithographed cartoons by G. Moore, and a very ornate cover, printed in gilt and 
colors. The cheapness is of course explained by the 60 adv. pp. scattered through the book, be- 
tides those whidi are incorporated with the text of the calendars themselves. The "funny 
business" customary with such prints covers 65 pp., and most of the remainder is given to 
practical statistics, of the sort which used to appear in the " Cyclist and Wheel W(W/«b/ Annual," 
sncfa as racing records ; officers, dates and uniforms of clubs ; and " brief biographies of more 
than 150 of the men best known in cycling drdes." (The latter annual's final issue was in Jan., 
'85, and its earlier ones continued the series bsgun by " Icyclcs " in '80; seep. 692.) An 
iliuroinated lithographic cover and a dozen wood-cuts characterize the " Christmas number of 
the Irish Cyclist and Athlete " edited by R. J. Mecredy and printed by A. & E. Cahiil, Dublin 
(68 pp., incl. 36 adv. pp.), which sells for sixpenc3. The same price attaches to " Chestnuts, 
or the Wheeling Sandford and Merton, by W. McCandlish and F. Percy Low " (pub. at 
Christmas, *56, by H. Etherington, 152 Fleet St.), an octavo whose 50 pp. of letterpress form a 
narrathre of 10 chapters, and are flanked by 60 adv. pp. The Birmingham weekly, Sport ^ 
Play, made a first attempt at a Christmas number in *S6, which Wheeling A'isx^MeA as " one 
of the most remarkable pennyworths of the year,' with its amusing skit by Tom Moore, which 
should be in the hands of all interested in c>'cling politics." "A London Physician's " pamphlet, 
" the Cyclist's Pocket Guide, giving practical hints for the amateur, and good advice for all " 
(Iliffcs), was aOuded to approvingly by Whteting oi Oct. 30 ; and that paper of Nov. 24 named 


the following as supplied for 13 c. by the Coventry Machinists* Co., 15 Holborn Viaduct : *' *A 
Sufferer's Experience of Rheumaiic Gout,' the author of which, after having been afflirt«w< inth 
the disease for 17 years, and trying all sorts of remedies, was cured by tricycling." 

A map of " the country west of London " (Mason & Payne, 41 Comhill ; 50 c.) was recxMS- 
mended by CycliU of Dec 22, as a new issue, " showing roads, footpaths, parks, woods, com- 
mons, and rails, as >itell as the distances and heights above the sea level," on a scale of | m. to i 
in. Its size is 43 by 32 in., folding in a cloth case %\ by 4^ in." The popularity of G. K. Yoong*s 
" Liverpool Cyclists' Guide " (see pp. 556, 636) is testified to by the fact that the sixth editioo, 
for '87, is threatened with a rival, which his former printers announce in preparation, with 
almost identical mzX.mA{W fueling ^ May 4). " Handbook on Training for Athletic Exercises," 
by W. E. Morden (E. Seale, Imperial Arcade, Ludgate Hill ; 25 c), was mildly praised in BL 
Nevus of Jan. 29 ; and "Athlete's Guide " {Pastime Pub. Co., 28 Paternoster Row ; 25 c), ed. 
by N. L. Jackson and E. H. Goodbold, was called " extremely valuable " in Wheeling oi May 
4. The second book " contains a full table of all British amateur records," and its chapter 00 
" cycling " (by G. L. Hillier) is more complete than the former book's. A series of pictured 
reports of " Cycling Rambles in the Home Counties," by H. S. Watkins, was begun in the 
JUust. Sporting iSr* Dramatic News of Apr. 30, and will doubtless be reproduced in book form. 
The BL News of Apr. 30 praised the neatly-printed and leather-bound dub-book of the North 
Warwickshire B. C, — with its chapters on cycling, touring, government and other general mat- 
ters, — as superior to most of the London attempts at club literature ; and it acknowledged, with- 
out approval, the receipt of a silly song, " Not the Baby but the Bicycle," pub. by S. Heard ft 
Co., of 192 High Holborn; written by T. S. Lonsdale; music composed by C. H. Chirgwin. 
The Cyclist of Jan. 36 says : " An excellent waltz, ' the Knights of the Wheel,' has just been 
composed by T. Capel Seavy, who proposes to embody the badges of 30 clubs around the figure 
on the outside cover. Clubs desiring to be commemorated thereon should apply for particulars 
to the publishers, 29 Southampton st.. Strand." The ed. of (Cyclist, referring in Dec to my 
quoted " review " (p. 684), says that " Miss Erskine's book on 'Tricycling ' has gone through 
2 eds." ; also that H. T. Round's '82 book, noted on p. 687, '* was the most complete and per- 
fect annual ever issued, — but has not been perpetuated, because too big and expensive for the 
price" ; also that the 6th ed. of his own " Indispensable " (which I name on p. 685 as appearing 
** late in *86") " is in press, but want of time even now, Dec. 29, prevents its completion. The 
'82 ed., which brought the total issue up to 16,000, has long been out of print." The san^ 
" retired naval man " who wrote the book of Scottish tours, named on p. 684, published an 
earlier one called ** Nauticus on his Hobby-Horse," whereof no details are known to me. A 
writer in BL News of Jan. 15 says that the earliest book on cycling was pub. at London in 1868 
by A. Davis, entitled thus : " The Velocipede and How to Use It " (see pp. 402, 688). lo 
Dec, '86, there was issued by W. Guilbert, at Ryde, Isle of Wight, price 18 c, a list of the 
year's cycling championships in all European countries, compiled by J. A. Randolph, C. T. C. 
consul at Ghent. The Cyclist calls the tables " most complete." 

In addition to the 5 blank-logs previously issued in the U. S. (see pp. 677-8), " the Wheel- 
men's Record Book, the only perfect one of its kind ever published " (100 pp. ; pocket and 
pencil; leather cover; 70 c), by Rich wine Bros., Phila., is adv. by the /iMrricaA Athlete ol 
Apr. 30, whose ed. offers to send it as a premium for two subscriptions to his paper at 50 c. each. 
*' Cyclers' Tables of Shell Roads near Norfolk, Va." (20 pp., 2^ by 4 in., 10 c), is an amateur 
booklet, issued in Feb. by V. P. Ellis. An adv. in Wheel News of Apr. i urged all cyders to 
at once forward their names, and name and size of wheel used, to Box 595, Westfield, Ms., 
for gratuitous insertion in the " Wheelmen's Directory," to be issued by '* the U. S. Wheel- 
men's Pub. Co." I found, by personal inquiry in May, that the '* Co." consisted of D. L. 
Beldin, a printer, and H. A. Lakin (p. 527) ; but the only answer given to my request for site, 
price and publication-time of the book was this : " It will come out a good deal sooner than 
your own." S. C. Griggs & Co., of Chicago, adv. in Outing, of Sept., '86, "The World on 
Wheels and other Sketches" ($1), by B. F. Taylor, a well-known journalist of that city, who 
has died since then ; but this had even less reference to cycling than the work of same name 


deaeribed on p. 680,— being stroply a series of humorous obeervalions of travel by train. A 
wheelmen's map of Worcester, Ms., is now distributed gratis by Hill& Tolman, cyde dealers. 
C M. Richards has postponed for a year the pamphlet of " Instructions " noted on p. 678. At 
about the middle of Apr., the Orange Wanderers (N. J.) voted that the club sliould publish a 
pamphlet '* on the*advantages of good roads and the proper construction and maintenance of the 
same." Four works on this general subject were thus catalogued by a writer in Bulletin of 
Nov. 12 : ** Roads and Streets," by Law & Clark (Wcale's Series, London, '61 and '77 *. N. Y., 
'67) ; " Roads, Streets & Pavements," by Q. A. Gillmore, Brev. Maj. Gen. U. S. A. (N. Y. : 
D. Yap Nostrand & Co., '76) ; " Engineering Notes," by F. Robertson (London and N. Y., 
'73) ; " Construction and Maintenance of Roads," by E. P. North, C. £. (in " Transactions of 
American Society of Civil Engineering," YoL YIIL, May, 1879). 

JouKNAUSM. — ^The following is a complete list of the 16 cycling papers now published in 
America (May 4, '87), arranged in order of their age, with date of first number of each, names 
of editors and publishers, and places of issue. The weeklies are marked " w." and the month- 
ties " m.'* — the former's price being $1 and the latter'sso c, unless otherwise shown : Bicycling' 
W^rld, w., Nov. 15, '79; C. W. Fourdrinier and J. S. Dean; B. W. Pub. Co., 12 Pearl »t., 
Boston. Ms. Wheel, w., Sept. 35, '80; F. P. Prial, 23 Park Row, N. Y. IVheelmen's Ga- 
aette, m., Apr., '83 ; H. E. Ducker, Springfield, Ms. Canadian Wheelman, m. (#1), Sept., 
'83; J. S. Brierley; C. W. A. Pub. Co., London, Ont. Bicycle South, ra., Dec, '84; H. P. 
Seiferth ; Hunter & Genslinger, 1 16 Gravier st. New Orleans, La. Star Advocate, m.. Mar. , 
*&$ ; E. H. Corson, East Rochester, N. H. L.A. W. Bulletin, w. , July 2, '85 ; A. Bassett ; Ex. 
Com. L. A. W. ; 22 School St., Boston, Ms. American Wheelman, m., Aug., '85; L. S. C. 
Ladish ; A. W. Pub. Co., loS N. Fourth St., St. Louis, Mo. Bicycle, m. (12 c), Apr., 86 ; L. 
P. Thayer, West Randolph, Yt. Pacific Wheelman, w., Sept., '86; Crandall Bros., 339 Bush 
SL, San Frandsco, Cal. Bicycle Herald &* Evangelist, m. (15c.), Sept., '86 ; H. A. King ; King 
Wheel Co., 51 Barclay St., N. Y. Minnesota Division, ro., Nov., '86; E. C. Smith, Winona, 
Minn. Wheelmen^ Record, w., Jan. 6, '87; G. S. & P. C. Darrow; W. R. Co., 25 Sentinel 
Building, Indianapolis, Ind. L. A. W. Pointer, m., Apr., '87; J. A. Hinman; L. A. W. P. 
Pub. Co., Oshkosh, Wis. Wheel News, w. (70 c), Apr. 1, '87; N. L. Collamer, 47 St. Cloud 
Building, Washington, D. C. Oregon Cyclist, Apr., '87 ; F. T. Merrill, 14s Fifth St., Portland, 
Or. No price is attached to the last-named, nor notice as to when the future numbers will 
appear ; but, as it is "entered at the post office as second-class matter," such numbers seem to 
be intended. It has 33 pp., of standard size, — letterpress and adv. alternating, — ^anda profile 
portrait of the editor and proprietor is framed in the " O " of the heading. As regards this, 
foregoing brief adv. of the whole American press, I urge that it ought to be given free insertion 
not only in every American book and pamphlet devoted to cycling, but in every trade-catalogue 
or price-list which cny American cycle dealer may issue. " Intelligent selfishness," and " the 
law of reciprocation " may both be said to demand this policy (as I explain on pp. 653, 718) ; 
but I believe' the only catalogues of '87 whose makers have yielded to my many printed and 
written arguments for granting such slight favor to the press are those of the Gormully & 
Jeffery Co., and A. G. Spalding & Brother, both of Chicago. 

The rapid change, if not also growth, characteristic of cycling journalism, is well shown by 
the amoont of '* additions and corrections " needed to produce the foregoing list of 16 from the 
similar one of i a compiled nine months earlier for p. 654. Three of those 12 have died ; and 
none of the 3 ever seemed to have as good a field, or to show as many signs of prosperity and 
longevity, as must be accredited to the Wheelmen^ s Record, of Indianapolis, — the most promis- 
ing one of the 7 which have sprung up within the three-quarters of a year. " Bom in a job- 
printing office on the 6th of Jan., it began growing and expanding in a way that astonished its 
friends." Such is the statement of its i6lh issue (Apr. 21), in announcing removal to a new 
ofifice, from the original cramped quarters at 35 W. Market St., as having been forced by the 
swiftness of its growth. A week later, it advertised in preparation a " special number for the 


League meet at St. Louift, giving in advance a burlesque account of that gathering, as a sort of 
souvenir" (16 pp. of illustrated text, in ornate lithographed cover) ; and promised for May 12 a 
full page lithographic portrait of T. J. Kirkpatrick, the probable next president of League. A 
similar lithograph of T. Stevens appeared Apr. 7, " portraits of 9 Indiana wheelmen/' Apr. 
21, and " cartoons " Mar. 17. and earlier. Besides these special features, wood-cuts have been 
interspersed in the text from the first number ; and the heading itself is of a humorous sort, repre> 
senting riders of various styles of wheels carrying placards on which are severally inscribed the 
six letters which spell the title " Record^ The artistic features of the paper are by P. C. Dar- 
row, who enlivened with similar pictures the report of his long '86 tour (in Wh.^ Gau. ; see p. 
xcviii.) ; and I wish here to praise that same report as one of the very few sketches known to me 
for really reproducing in print the humorous experiences of the road, without any strained and 
tiresome attempts at wit or smartness. His brother, G. S. Darrow, is the chief working editor, 
while C. F. Smith attends to the advertising. The page is of standard size and enclosed in a 
cover whose color varies from week to week. The Record firmly upholds the League ; and, in 
addition to representing the same in its own State, has arranged with the officers of the Illinob 
Division that subscriptions from members thereof shall be accepted at the reduced rate of 75 c, 
in consideration of the officers' supplying their earliest official news to the Record. ('i*hose ofii< 
cers, on Nov. 21, arranged to use as " their organ " the Sunday issue of a Chicago daily, the 
Inter OceaHy in return for its devoting a regular column to cycling affairs ; and the Sporting &* 
Theatrical Journal then dropped from its heading the " and IVestem Cycler" which it had as- 
sumed when appointed to the organship, July 3, *86; see p. 672), The Record 9ma to be light 
and amusing, and it at least reaches near enough to that ideal to possess a character and jBavor of 
its own. It shows more care than any other cycling print yet produced west of the Alleghanies. 
The Wheel News is "devoted expressly to touring," its ed. being the League Tourmaster, 
and the size of its 8 pp. is 9 by 6 in. The Pointer ^nd Division are State organs of the League, 
as shown by their titles. The Pacific Wheelman is of same size as News^ — the issue of Tues- 
day, May 3, being the first one that came to me in that shape, and with new editors' names and 
doubled price. After a half-year as an 8 p. monthly, it changed to a 4 p. weekly, and thus ap- 
peared with an ornamental heading, from Mar. 5 till April 9 or later. During all this time, its 
price was 50 c, its publication office 1029 Market St., and its " editors and proprietors," T. L 
Hill, D. W. Donelly, F. R. Cook and S. F. Booth, jr. It is the '* official organ of Cal. Div. of 
League," — the Ingleside^ named on p. 661, having died. The Bi. Herald is an adv. organ of the 
King Wheel Co., of N. Y. (incorp. Nov. 24, *86), and its ed. is Rev. H. A. King, of Springfield, 
Ms. , pres. of the company and inventor of the King safety bicycle. Its drculation is based upon 
the mailing-list of a local revivalist and temperance paper called the Evangelist^ which had a 
post-office registry for second-class rates, and most of its matter is designed for Evangelist read- 
ers. It do2s not appear to exchange regularly with the cycling editors, and I have received no 
copy save the first (Sept.) ; but I have heard of 2 or 3 later ones, and the current adv. of the K. 
W. Co. still says that it will be sent for 15 c. a year by the sec.-treas., A. J. King, 51 Barclay St., 
N. Y. Prosperity seems to have been won by the American Wheelman (whose " pub. co," is 
said to consist of L. C. S. Ladish, J. S. Rogers, L. Gordon and E. L. Stettinius), for its May issue 
contains 18 pp. of adv. and 12 of text, — well-printed in the reformed style mentioned on p. 67s, 
—though the rumor there given of its absorption of the Bi. South was not correct. I think that 
paper is still issued, but no specimens have reached me since Aug., and I name its editor on 
authority of a note in Bulletin of Sept. 3, correcting thus my statement of p. 670, that S. M. 
Patton was to be its ed. I gladly correct also my assumption of p. 671, that the Smith Mach. 
Co. gave more support than all other patrons to the Star Advocate^ — the neat little monthly 
which fills so well its chosen function of vigorously proclaiming " the Star," — for its editor de- 
clares that only until recently, when the Smithville people purchased a paid adv. at regular rates, 
has he received any help at all from that quarter. The 7ih issue of the Vermont Bicycle, in 
Oct., *86, changed its first rude shape (see p. 672) to 16 pp. of standard size and improved typog- 
raphy, but in Jan. it went back to the old form and dropped " Vermont" which was the only 
distinctive thinz in its title. The not expensive rate of 12 c a year (dating from Apr., when ad 


vol. began) is explained by the fact that most of the type is first used for the Herald &* ATewtt 
MBoed by the sanw editor, who lias just been chosen as chief consul of the League in his State. 

The ££, World celebrated the opening of a new volume, May 6, '87, both by moviug to a 
pewofiioe where it can do its own printing, and by retuniing to the former double^olumn typog- 
capby, which I motioned on p. 663 as looking better,— also superseding the head of Aug. 7, 
'80, by a neater one of style similar to the earliest, but more artistic Oddly enough, it makes 
% hiscoric blunder by inserting in the head, " Founded 1878,'* for the real date was Nov. 15, ^9 
(seep. 662), while the first issue of Am. Bi. Jour. — whose "good-will " the B. W. bought, 
while disclaiming the lineal successorship— was dated Dec. 23, '77 (see p. 655}. The last gas> 
of the B. iy.*s " archery " off:»hoot, which I have described as absorbed by Recreatian (pp. 663, 
668), was given when that luckless journal died, quite appropriately, in the office of the IVJuel, 
where it was bom, as Amateur Athiete^ Apr. 4, 'S3, — the final issue bearing date of Nov. 26, 
'86. Its owners, the ** Cyclist Pub. Co.," sold the corpse, Nov. 29, to the Wheel's owners, the 
" Cycling Pub. Co." (mentioned incorrectly on p. 667, as having " made its last appearance "), 
which was then reorganized (J. W. Barnes, pres. ; F. Jenkins, treas. ; W. N. Oliver, N. M. 
Beckwith, G. M. Huss, W. S. Bull, H. A. Smith, stockholders), and which at once leased the 
Wheel to F. P. Prial, its present editor and publisher, at a rental representing a certain per- 
centage of the capital stock, with privilege of perpetual renewal. Though he had done most 
of the editorial work from Apr. 21, '85 (p. 666), his name was first printed as ed. Sept. 3, '86; 
ind when " pub." was first added to it, Dec. 3, he reduced the price to the standard %v rate, 
ibough " ^a " had been named during the 8 weeks preceding, on account of some trouble with 
the Am. News Co. On May 6, he changed his office to 23 Park row, and at same time trans- 
ferred tlie printing from 12 Vesey st. to B. W. Dinsmore & Co., of 13 Frankfort St., who w;;re 
employed in '83-4. Pagination was resumed, after long disuse, when the 6th year began, Oct. i, 
and the 33 issues from then to May 13 show 46S pp. A " Southern Department " was begun 
May 4, under N. L. CoIlamer,of Washington, ed. of Wheel Nttvs ; and the more frequent em- 
ployment of brevier type allows its editor to proclaim it as " the Iarges^of the weeklies." At 
the age of 8 months (Dec. 3 ; see p. 665), the Cycle gave a significant sign of distress by drop- 
pit^ the price from $1.50 to 75 c. ; and when ths Jan. 21 issue announced its " ceasing to exist," 
because of cd.'s promotion to management of Bulletin (p. Ixxxvi.), its small sub. list was sold to 
the all-swallowmg Wh. Gas., of Springfield. As for the unborn papers, a Washington cor. of 
the Wheels Mar. 4, said '* the Wheel Age^ a 2 c. monthly representing a club of scientific riders 
and writers," would appear there within 6 weeks ; but on Mar. 35 he reported a postponement, 
" though enough capital has been subscribed to run the paper for a year." The Am. Wheel- 
■Miv. of Apr., says a bi. )oumal is about to be started by the riders of Oakland, Cal. ; and 
another reporter (Bui., Dec 17, p. 590) said he had " pretty good authority for believing that 
Kansas City, Mo., would soon have a cycling weekly, managed by H. G. Stuart." 

The most notable addition to the British journalism of the year is the Way/arer, a quarterly 
magazine issued by the well-known London publishers, Chatto & Windus, of Piccadilly, in behalf 
of the editorial committee of " the Society of Cyclists," which was established in the early part of 
*85, with these avowed objects : " The development of cycling, and its application to the pro- 
motion of studies in literature, science and art." I quote from an official leaflet, which names a 
fEOveming council of 24 (including 2 clergymen and 3 physicians) in addition to these 3 officers : 
Pres., B. W, Richardson; treas., M. F. Cobb; sec, A. W. Blyth. The latter may be ad- 
dressed at the society's rooms, 9 Conduit St., W., where monthly meetings are held, from Oct. 
to May, wh^n " new inventions are exhibited and papers of interest to cyclists read and dis- 
cussed." Admission to the society is by three-fourths vote (6 black-balls to exclude in any case), 
and its annual fee of $5.25 entitles each member to the Wayfarer^ M'hose price to outsiders is 
%\. Tickets admitting visitors to the meetings may be had on application to any member or to 
ihe secretary. Corresponding members pay an entrance fee of $$-25. biU no annual dues, and 
they can take no part in the election of members or officers. No officer can hold his place for 
more than three consecutive terms; and " the 8 councilors who have attended the fewest coun- 
cil-neetings during their year sliall not be eligible for re-election until after the lapse of a year." 


" The council sliall meet as often as business shall require ; and any 3 of the 27 counctk>rs shall 
be a quorum." Women are eligible to membership; and the expulsion of a member requires 
a two-lhirds vote, after its recommendation by the council. The evolution of the society from the 
•* Tricycle Union " has been detailed by me on p. 647 ; and an account of its " first annual con- 
gress," which is there alluded to, covers much of the Wayfarer's first issue (Oct., pp. 118), 
while its second (Jan., pp. 86) contains upwards of a dozen papers read at the various monthly 
meetings, on such subjects as "Tricycles for the Police," " Norway as a Field for Cyclists,** 
"the Essex Route to Kent," and " Druidical Remains at Abury." The latter is by the 
"secretary of the editorial committee," J. B. Marsh, the same "elderly quidnunc''^ whose 
** vaporings " proved so distasteful to the " Sec-Ed. of C. T. C." as to lead him to forge the 
signature of J. Pennell, in order to effectively denounce them (see p. xci.). J. P. himself is one 
of the society's council, and will doubtless be glad to recommend the names of American ac- 
quaintances who may wish to become corresponding members. 

Inferior typography and paper characterize the Cycling Budget (" a domestic and cycling 
)Oumal, for news topics and leisure hours; editors, Ixion and Thalia ; manager, Wm. Bolton "), 
which has been issued every Wednesday since Dec. 14, *86, at 170 Strand. The latter half of 
its 16 pp. (12 by 9J in.) is given to " reprint matter " of the sort which American country papers 
use for padding, and the greater part of this seems to have originated in America, — Burdette, 
Bill Nye and other familiar names being quoted in the only two specimens I have seen. Mar. 2 
and 9. The adv.'s are all restricted to the orange-colored cover. Wheeling of Mar. 2 was " re- 
quested to state that T. C. Heath (editor) and H. H. Grifihi are no longer connected with the 
Cycling Budget V Mr. G. was mentioned on Nov. 10 as having ceased to supply the ** club 
chronicle " for Bi. News, and having terminated all connection with the IlifTcs (see p. 690). 
While letters on a black background characterize the heading of the Cycling World, "an illust. 
weekly newspaper for wheelmen, edited by J. H. Akennan," and pub. on Wednesdays at 158 
Fleet St., beginning Mar. 9." Tlie ed. was formerly connected with the Cycling Times (which 
H. A. Barrow, wrongly named on p. 689 as " proprietor," has also left), and he sa>'s "the 
writers who have joined in the venture have already made their names in connection with the 
journalism of the sport,"— but he does not announce them. The only " illustration " I find 
in the first issue is a cut of a tricycle. The adv.'s cover the outside 4 of the 16 pp., of standard 
size, and the price is a penny, as in case of all the London weeklies. The choice of IVorld for 
a title was made possible by the discontinuance, in Dec., of the Iliffes' Wheel World {^^ pp. 
654, 690), in favor of " Olympia " (price 12 c), which they began, in Jan., " to command the 
broader field of all outdoor sports," after the fashion of Outing; though they still adv. it as 
" the cyclist's monthly magazine," and the wheeling contributors continue to predominate. H. 
A. Judd ceased to edit and A. J. Wilson (" Faed ") ceased to contribute to W. W., a month 
before the transformation ; because, with the issue of Tricycling Journal oi Nov. la, H. A. 
Judd & Co. were announced as new owners, with A. G. Morrison (pp. 535, 690) as a third mem- 
ber of the ed. staff. The office was at once changed from Hammersmith to 181 Fleet st. (pp. 654, 
691), the typography was improved, and an artistic heading was added,— the laltci being thrown 
off, Mar. 25, when a ch.inge of name was made to Cycling Journal. Since then the words, 
"edited by H. A. Judd" have figured at top of outside page. The pink cover and "land- 
scape heading " of the C. T. C. Gazette have been replaced in the current volume by a bhie 
cover and a neater design, giving prominence to the new badge " pirated " from the L. A. W. 

After an inspection of advance pages of my " literature " chapter, the ed. of Cyclist sent 
me the following corrections (Dec. 29, '86) : " The old Bicycle Journal {{i. 689) did not appear 
until *77, a year later than Bi. News, for it spnmg from the annual, instead of giving rise to it. 
Wheel Life (p. 6go) was a failure, because its editors did not secure the public taste. The 'Jri- 

cyclist, on the contrary, always paid its way. The amalgamation has proved a big success, the 

Bi. News now circulating within 2000 copies of the Cyclist, and increasing weekly. Its cartoons 
knocked the Wheeling ' art supplements * (p. 693) into ridicule. Your quoted par. from B. N. 
introduction (p. 694) was really %vritten by W. McC. and not by G. L. H., as implied. Youi 
implication (p. 549) that I purposely left out the ' Star * from my list of safety bicycles, becauso 


it k Ameriaui, is alto wrong. The oversight was mainly because the Smith Mach. Co. failed 
to fin ooi my blanks for details, and hence it got overlooked. This is proved by the fact that 
several of the patented parts are described in my first duipter. I would also remark that I was 
tke first English joMmalist to take any note of American doings whatsoever." 

As every loyal Englishman wishes this year to help celebrate the " jubilee," or completed 
lialf«century of Queen Victoria's reign, the Cycluty of Dec. sa, called upon the wheelmen of the 
kingdom to subscribe for a " jubilee life*boat fund," and the responses, up to May 4, have been 
#•396. As the boat and house cost $5000, and the boat alone ^3250, the proposed memorial 
seems likely to be incomplete ; but the sum actually raised makes a very creditable showing for the 
editor's energy. Similarly, the BL News^ of Mar. 19, called for help in buying artificial limbs 
for a l^leas sailor, J. Mcintosh, who had driven a tricycle from Dundee to London in 20 
days, and was able to announce $94 collected on Apr. 2. That paper of May 7 gives a page to 
tabulating its circulation for 53 weeks, showing a growth from 3650 to 7050 o^ies, which it 
calls " a larger |nt>portionate progress f«r the 12 mos. than that of any other cycling journal, and 
a laiiger actual circulation than that of any other 6xcept the Cyclist, We believe that, within 3 
mos., our issue will exceed 10,000." As between the two Coventry prints just named, I can ex- 
IHcss the opinion, after a 4 months' perusal of both, that Americans will find more to interest 
them in the B. N.^ de^ite its hostile tone towards this country (p. 695). November report 
meaticmed A. C. Harmsworth, as its actual managing editor at the Coventry office, though his 
name is not printed in the paper. A recent token of its unfairness was a refusal to publish the 
report of A. J. Wilson of the Trieyclitt, exonorating the Springfield B. C, from the charge of 
** falsehood " raised by the Cyclist^ when the club announced, in Oct. (as a jusiiikation of its 
advertising the presence of well-known English "amateurs" at its Sept. tournament, who 
in reality failed to appear there), that it possessed letters of leading English firms, contracting to 
supply those " amateurs " at a stipulated rate. The Cyclist challenged the club to produce 
those letters for some well>known Englishman's inspection ; and they were therefore submitted 
to Mr. W., with the result stated. All the other cycling papers printed his report and said it 
justified the honesty of the Springfield B. C.,— but the Cyclist kept quiet until, on Apr. 13 (p. 
636}, it was forced it make a halting apology for " refusing to print stale news " ; but it did nol 
squarely retract the false chaige. As regards the " Coventry ring " publishers, I may remark 
that they were quick to see the force of my printed argument on p. 719, and put their papers on 
file with me for indexing, rather than allow Wkttling to exclusively get the benefit of my quota- 
tsoos and credit-marks. The Cyc, Jaur. and /r. Cyc. &» Athlete have also adopted the same 
•* intelligently selfish " rule towards nie, which Wheeling's publisher was shrewd enough to 
adopt at the outset of my round-the-world enterprise. A recent token of English appreciation 
of that shrewdness is the publication by the St. Stephen's Gasette of a portrait of H. Eihering. 
ton, " manager of the Sportsman's Exhibition," accompanied by biographical sketch* which lat- 
ter was reprinted in Wheeling of May 4. The founder of the Bi, News, B. Oegg, died Apr.2S. 

In correction of my Aug. list of papers on p. 654, I may say that No. 31 should have been 
named as Irish Athletic «&- Cycling News (see p. 695), with J. L. Dunbar as ed. and prop. 
It is an offshoot of the Irish Sportsman, and I believe P. B. Kirwan is a leading writer for it. 
R. J. Mecredy became ed. of Ir. Cyclist dr* Athlete in Dec, when it was changed to a weekly, 
and in Mar. he bought it, in company with his brother, A. Mecredy. Its price is a c, and office 
b at 49 Mid Jle Abbey st. Its latest page, May 4, is numbered *' 2664," and its general appear. 
ance is prosperous. Under its title is a list of some two dozen clubs, of which it is the " official 
Qfgan," beginning with the I. C. A. (whereof its editor is sec), and ending with the Irish Rifle 
Association. Special " club organs " are not unknown in England,— the Cyclist of Apr. 6 mrn- 
tioning with praise the Centanr Gazette of Birmingham, as having attained to " No. 25, Vol. 
IV. "; while JFA^^/m^ acknowledged the arrival of ' the Wheel, tor Sept., monthly journal of 
the Lonsdale B. C, Mr. Calvert, editor," as long ago as Dec. 3, '84. In '84, also, the Cycling 
Mercury was leading a life of its own ; and perhaps the date of its absorption by the Scottish 
Umpire^ in whose heading h now forms a sub-title (see p, 695), is marked by the date of the 
hitter's new aeries,— ^e current issue of which, Apr. 26, n " No. \\\^ Vol. VI." The public^ 


tion office is at 25 Jamaica st., Glasgow. Quix^ a cntnic paper of that dty, has just introduced « 
cycling column. Southern Athletics^ a monthly of cycling, was begun last Nov., at Lewisham. 
An amalgamation, in Oct., of two of the French joumab described on p. 699, — the first 
a weekly dating from Mar. 5, '85, and the second a semi-monthly dating from Jan., '85, — ^has re- 
stilted in the ViloctSport et ie VtiocemaH Rhtnis, weekly, of Bordeaux, owned and edited by 
Jean de I'Arieste, founder of the former. The first number of a new paper at B. was mentioned 
as inferior to this old one, by the Fr. cor. of iVk. for Nov., but he did not tell its name. 
In Dec, M. del'Arieste made a vigorous protest against allowing the title " official organ of the 
Union V^locip^dique " to be conferred upon its hated rival, the Revue dn Sport yilocipidique 
(Rouen : 84 Vicornpt^ st.) whose " spirited pictures " were praised by Cyclist Apr. 27, and whuse 
" Almanach lllustri ds la V^locipidis, 18S7 " (13 c.), was thus noticed by same paper, Dec. aa : 
" It is better than the three earlier eds., and consists almost entirely of short tales, interspersed 
with jokelets called ' coups de pidales.' The best of its pictures are reproductions of the Stevens 
series in Otttingy The long name of the Rouen paper suggests that the two described on p. 698 
have been combined ; but I 'm not sure of the fact. As for the Maandbiad, which began in 
Apr., *84, as " official organ of the Dutch Cyclers* Union " (p. 700), its issue of Apr. i, '87, is 
called the Kampioeu, by Wheelings as if the old title had long been di.«iused. The true German 
name of what is called the Steel Wheel on p. 700, is the StaMrad {^nnVimx. : Th. Weber, ed. ; 
16 pp. ; #1.25), pub. sth and 20th of each month, at 3 Buchgasse. At Nuremburg, on the fint 
Sunday in each month, Carl Lutz, ed., of Mohren St., issues the DaUsche Rad/akrer (begun 
in '85 ; 8 to 12 pp., $1.50), "official organ of the ' AUgemeinen Radfahrer-Union,* *' which 
seems to be a self-styled " universal " rival of the more important " Dsutscher Radfahrer-Bund *' 
described on pp. 651, 697. Vienna has two new fortnightlies : Rad/ahrtr-Zeituug {^%^\ D. 
Habemal, ed. ; 3 Fiirichgasse ; 12 pp. ; ;^i)and Radfahr-Sport ('86; A. Von Szabo, )r.,ed. : 
5 Lowengasse ; 16 pp. ; #2). The Cyclist of Feb. 22 mentioned the starting of still another 
German paper, — a " universal " one, — AUgemeiner Anteiger f&r Rad/ahrer. The Veloci- 
pedistf Munich, and Velocipedsport^ Berlin (p. 697), were both flourishing at close of '86. The 
latter is pub. by A. Paritschke (97Zinimerst. ; $1.50), and he also issues " Illustrirter Radfalv 
rer-Kalcnder 1887," at 25 c I take the foregoing from sth ed. of " Radfahrers Jahrbuch " 
(Berlin : T. H. S. Walker, 87 Zimmer st. ; Dec, '86; 230 pp. and 40 adv. pp. ; 25 c, see p. 
697), at whose office are pub. the three following : (i) " Tourenbuch," for Germany, Holland, 
and parts of Switzerland, Austria, France and Denmark, by J. M. Dumstrey, Tourmaster of 
German Wheelmen's Union ; (2) Nachlese aus dcm Radfahrerlebcn " (Gleanings from a 
Wheelman's Life), by J. M. Dumstrey, illust. by Max Rendschmidt, Oct., 86, $1.37; (3) " Das 
Kunst- nnd Saalfahren beim Radfahr-sport," by R. Hofer, of Leipzig, 25 c. Four others are 
also catalogued : ** Das Dreirad (The Tricycle) und seine Bedeutung als Verkehrsmittel fiir 
Jedermanrf," by Otto Ekarius, M. D. (Hamburg: G. C. Temps, 59 Neuerwall ; 37 c); 
"Liederbuch fiir Radfahrer," by the Ellwangcn B. C. (songs, 3d ed. , 30 c.) ; ** Touren- und 
Fahrtenbnch," for Alsace- Loraine and Baden (Strasburg : F. Breunfleck & C. Wester ; 55 c.) ; 
" Wegweiser fUr Radfahrer," along the Rhine (M.-Gladbach : O. Weber, 13 Wilhelm st. ; 75 c). 

At the close of '85, the largest year's mileage recorded in America was J. D. Macaulay's 
(Louisville ; 6573 ni. ; see p. 527), who rode every day of that year ; while the largest mileage 
in the world was E. Tegetmeier's (London ; 10,053 m. in 230 days of '83 ; see pp. 531, 558). 
Hence, when the Star Advocate ol Mar., '87, printed a letter from A. B. Norton (b. Apr. 2, 
*66), manager of the telephone office at Westfield, Ms., describing how that — between Mar. 5 
and Dec 30, '86 — io,7o6| m. had been recorded by his I.akin cyclom., attached to a 48 in. 1. r. 
Star, the case seemed to me worth investigating. In a talk with him, at the opening of May, I 
convinced myself that his cyclom. had really registered the said mileage, and that he believed 
in its accuracy, as proved by occasional comparison with known distances. Unfortunately, as 
he kept no sort of log, except a mere mem. of the date when each 1000 m. ended, his figures 
cannot be accepted as authentic by those who distrust that special matke of cyclom. , or who re* 


ftne to allow any mOeage record which is not written down daily, no matter by what means 
measured. All the circumstances, however, favor the theory of his having actually covered the 
distance. Though nominally employed by his father as book-keeper and collector, he had a 
pvat deal of lime at command ; and he was enthusiastic to demonstrate the superiority of his 
new Sur (having ridden a 51 in. in '85, and an ordinary in '84), by doing better than the West- 
field bank derk who rode 5000 ro. on an ordinary during 6 mos. of '85 (p. 527). The successive 
thousands of miles were finished at the following dates, the enclosed numerals signifying elapsed 
days, though no riding was done on some of them : ist, 43, Apr. 14 ; 2d, 21, May 5 ; 3d, 24, 
May 29; 4th, 22, June ao; sth, 22, July 12 ; 6th, 43, Aug. 28 ; 7th, 20, Sept. 13 ; Sih, 25, Oct. 
8; 9th, 16, Oct. 24 ; loth, 17, Nov. 10; then, in 50 days to Dec. 30, 706} m. From July 12 to 
27 he did no riding, on account of break in machine, and on certain rainy days he rode perhaps 
300 or 400 m. under cover. His best straightaway spin was from Hartford to Springfield, 27 m. 
in a h. 10 min. (beating record by \ h.), and his longest day was 125 m., Oct. 32, in 9 h. of rid- 
iag,^4 to 7 A. M., 9 to 12 and 3 to 5 p. m. His rides were by no means confined to the concrete 
walks of W. but extended to S., Holyoke and Northampton and were generally taken alone. 

The prize of a $25 gold-plated cyclom., which had been an inspiring cause of his activity, 
was awarded by Lakin & Co., to a 15-year old school-boy, G. J. Loomis, riding a 52 in. Victor (p. 
$17), who made the preposterous " claim '* of 13,498 m., without offering a particle of evidence 

10 support it, — not even giving the dates when the alleged thousands were finished. He kept 
the face of his cydom. carefully hidden,— but Mr. N. managed to take two readings of it, Oct. 

11 (evening) and 19, and the " record " for these 5 days was 996 m.I Yet the Overman Wheel 
Co. have advertised this wretched fraud as a great triumph for their mechanism ; while another 
Westfield school boy of same age, named Emerson Burt, who similarly " claimed " 10,002 m., 
on a 42 in. American Ideal, was rewarded by the Gormully & Jcffcry Co. with a new 46 in. bi. 
As I have reproved the Pope Mfg. Co. forgiving countenance to an unverified " estimate of 
11,000 m. in 14 mos." (p. 526), so here I protest again against these other firms taking such action 
as helps bring all honest cyclometers and record-keeping into disrepute. The " claims *' of these 
two children are utterly farcical ; but the Overman Co. might well have proclaimed the undoubt- 

- fdly authentic *86 record of 80S7 m. by A. B. Barkman (p. 530), who thus won the Brooklyn B. 
('. medal, for he rode all but the first 433 m. on a Victor. Second only to this, stands the " Star " 
record of 7451 m.. Mar. 27 to Dec. 26, '86, by W. W. Sheen (b. June 17, *W>), of Quincy, who 
tabulated each day's mileage in Wh. Gaz. , for Mar. Space forbids my printing details of either 
case. I also regretfully omit an account of one of the roost notable tours of '86, taken by a tiio 
of the New Orleans B. C— A. M. Hill (b. Sept. 13, '47), a jeweler at 116 Canal st. ; C. M. Fair- 
child (b. May 23, '65), and H. W. Fairfax (b. Aug. 11, '66). They left N. O. on Apr. 25 and 
reached Boston 30 days later, after having ridden their bicycles 1237 m., walked 319 m. and 
ta'ien to trains for 237 m. (See Mr. H.'s four articles in Bulietbi, Oct. 29 to Nov. 19.) 

The following table is from a little pamphlet issued in '8x by H. S. Livingston, of Cincin- 
nati, to accompany his " perfection cyclometer," which is no longer in the market. Short dis« 
tances may readily be measured by bearing these figures in mind, and disregarding the fractions 
a* unimportant. It may be well to remember that \ m. is 440 yards, and \ m. is 587 yards. 

of Wheel. 




of Wheel 











of Wheel 

to the Mile. 

403- :^6 
336. « 4 


Distance Madb im 














^o.poo Rev. 

Miles. Yards. 





After four years op prelude and gei'ting-ready, Karl Kron thus 
TO HIS Three Thousand Co-partners giveth greeting : 

I like the Preface, as you arc aware 
It serves the purpose of the overture, 

Which settles down the audience to the glare 
Of foot-lights, and the altered temperature; 

And, while they wait to see the curtain rise, 
They think but little of the music's swell ; 

So that the play give naught to criticise, 
They clap their hands and tell us *' All is well." 

Again, the Preface gives a man a chance 
To show his readers what he's going to do; 

To so point out' his failings in advance 
That they may be forgiven on review ; 

To get his pen used to the ways of verse ; 
To get his rhyming-lexicon before him spread 

To nerve himself, for better or for worse ; 
And then, at last, to boldly go ahead. 

My time has come I My overture *s played out 
Already do I hear the tintinnabulating bell. 

The rising curtain and expectant shout 
The nearness of my fate at length foretell. 

So, Good-bye, Preface, Indexes, and all ! 
Farewell, Old Sub.-List, with your frowns and smiles ! 

Here now *s the pinch I Hear now my clarion-call : 
" Come / thirty thousand purchasers for * X. M. MiLBS ' I " 




''There is a pleasure in the pathless woods," without a doubt. But, 
wlien the solitary wayfarer journeys through those woods afoot, he must 
expect to derive that pleasure wholly from the natural objects around him : 
he cannot count on gaining any from communion with his fellow-man. His 
fellow-man is, in fact, much inclined to fight shy of such solitary wayfarer 
whenever he ceases to view him with absolute indifference, for nothing 
picturesque or attractive attaches to the casual pedestrian plodding slowly 
along his chosen path, and even tjie very name of " tramp " has come to carry 
with it the notion of something disreputable or dangerous. In the view of 
the average American householder, a stranger tramping along the public 
highway must be either a poor man in search of employment, or a book-agent 
or a patent-rights hawker or some oth^r variety of the peripatetic peddler, or 
else he must be a professional vagrant and thief. In any case, he is a person 
whom it is advisable to keep at arm's length and to favor with civilities of 
only the briefest and most formal description. He is an essentially common- 
place and uninteresting object, whose room is much better than his company. 
Acquaintance with such a one can presumably yield the householder neither 
pleasure nor profit, and is more likely to result in discomfort and loss. 
Good-day to him, therefore, and good riddance. 

When the solitary wayfarer glides through the country on top of a 
bicycle, however, his relations to his human environment are absolutely 
.altered. The Frenchmen of old, to whom must be accorded the ultimate 
credit for rendering possible this modern mechanical marvel, might well 
exclaim, ^Nmts avons changi totU cela,** Mounted on a four-foot wheel, which 
sends him spinning swiftly and noiselessly o'er hill and dale, the whilom 
tramp is transformed into a personage of consequence and attractiveness. 
He becomes at once a notable feature in the landscape, drawing to himself 
the gaze — and it is usually the admiring gaze— of all whose eyes are there to 
see. His fellow-humans ignore or avoid him no longer. Gentle or simple, 
they all recognize in him the representative of something novel and remark- 

IFrom Lippincotfs MagaxhUt June, 1882, pp. 576-587. Reprinted Id The IVheeimant 
December, 1881, pp. 170-179. 


able. He is the center of universal curiosity and comment. His presence 
illustrates a fresh triumph of mind over matter. All creatures who ever 
walked have wished that they might fly; and here is a flesh-and-blood man 
who can really hitch wings to hb feet. That is the one touch of nature which 
makes the whole crowd kin. 

The deprecatory remarks often addressed to that large body of Ameri- 
cans who make the tour of Europe without any preliminary travels of import- 
ance through their own country may seem rather plausible at first blush, but 
whoever looks below the surface of things will quickly discover the injustice 
of such reproaches. The tourist who goes abroad gets a great deal more for 
his money than he could possibly get by traveling an equal distance at home. 
This magnificent country contains without doubt many notable natural 
objects which are well worthy of the inspection of its natives as well as of 
foreigners ; and the foreigner has as an additional motive for traveling here 
the outward life of the people, which he can compare instructively with the 
similar manifestations made in the mass by the life of other nations. But the 
cities of the United States, however widely separated geographically, are all 
practically alike, and so are the towns and the villages, and so are the out- 
ward characteristics of their inhabitants. The *' local color " which senti- 
mental writers are so prone to attribute to the people .and institutions of 
particular sections of our vast domain does not possess the vividness which 
would make it really distinctive. New Orleans, which is the most un- 
American of our cities, does not impress me as essentially unlike New York, 
and the most radical difference between Boston and San Francisco is a differ- 
ence of longitude only. To speed along the frozen lake-side at Chicago 
behind the jingling sleigh-bells of a bustling business-man's **■ fast trotters," 
and three days later to lazily pluck the yellow fruit from an overladen orange- 
tree in a sleepy garden of Mobile, is merely to indulge in an impressive 
change of physical surroundings : it is not to learn an instructive lesson of life, 
such as is gained by going from St. Petersburg to Rome, from London to 

The distinctive characteristics of the various European nationalities 4u« 
sufficiently obtrusive to arrest the attention of the most heedless observer, 
while the local peculiarities of people residing in widely-separated sections of 
this country are for the most part too faint and subtile for off-hand detection. 
In other words, all Americans are so much alike in the main essentials of 
character that the minor respects in which certain divisions of them differ 
seem hardly important enough to be worth paying much attention to. The 
process of jostling about among people who were bom under different skies, 
and brought up to accept a philosophy of life greatly at variance with our 
own, educates us in tolerance and increases our broadness of view ; but a man 
may travel here from Maine to Mexico without of necessity receiving a single 
shock to his preconceived ideals of correct conduct, or seeing anything to 
remind him that there are other people who do not accept his inherited rules 


of right living as being unquestionably '' the best.'* The inhabitants of these 
United States are a remarkably reticent race', greatly given to minding their 
own business, and extremely slow about revealing their real thoughts to a 
stranger until they discover what his business may be. The ordinary traveler 
may pass and repass among them till doomsday without any more penetra- 
ting their reserve than a summer shower penetrates the plumage of a duck. 
Yet they are talkative enough if once their sympathy is aroused and their 
confidence gained by the introduction of some object which supplies a com- 
mon ground for interesting conversation. Such an object in a supremely 
eminent degree is the modem bicycle. The dauntless sailor of fouk- centuries 
ago, who persistently pointed his prow through the stormy westward waves, 
had the unique satisfaction of discovering the great American continent ; but 
it has been reserved for the philosophic bicycler of to-day, who steadily 
guides his wheel through peaceful and pleasant pathways, to indulge in the 
rare delight of discovering the average American citizen. 

Undemonstrative as that citizen is apt to be toward the ordinary stranger, 
the spectacle presented by a smoothly-gliding wheelman somehow warms the 
cockles of his heart, and likewise loosens his tongue. He usually manifests 
his good will by '*i>assing the time o' day" in one form or another, instead of 
maintaining his customary unsociable silence ; and, not unfrequently, when 
driving a horse that readily keeps him alongside, he is tempted into an 
extended, though perforce rather fragmentary, conversation. It is not until 
the bicycler dismounts, however, that the degree to which his wheel has put 
him on " easy speaking acquaintance " with a great variety of people becomes 
folly apparent. Whether in city or in country, he quickly becomes the center 
of an interested conclave, all intensely eager to learn about his movements 
and inspect at close quarters the new-fangled mechanism, and all at the same 
time rather shy of directly asking questions which may be resented as imper- 
tinent by such a distinguished traveler. While engaged in wiping or oiling 
or adjusting his wheel, he is cheerfully conscious that the first brief period of 
silent awe on the part of the bystanders will be followed by the offering of 
various leading suggestions and speculations from one to the other, which 
they design him to overhear and reply to; and that, under the encouragement 
of a dvil explanation on his part, the usual battery of questions will be fired 
off and the "conversation become general." To know the price of the 
machine is the universal wish; yet the question is not often flatly put without 
a preface of decorous apology for asking it. One common way of beating 
around the bush is to profess having " made a bet " on the subject which the 
owner only is competent to settle, and will he therefore kindly consent to 
tell ? " We know it's none of our business, boss, but—" " We don't like to 
trouble you, colonel, but — ^" " I hope you won't think me impertinent, sir, 
but — " Such are the common introductions to requests for information on 
this, that, or the other point. 

It may seem to the unreflecting as if a man must at last grow inexpres- 


sibly tired of replying over and over again to the self-same inquiries pro- 
pounded by different sets of people. I should be afraid to guess the number 
of hundred times I have " answered the anxious " by saying that the price of 
bicycles varies from seventy-five to one hundred and seventy-five dollars or 
more, according to the size, make, and finish ; that the tire is of rubber, and 
that the ** cut " in the same is not the result of an accident, but simply the 
point of junction where the two ends are cemented together; that the spokes 
are steel wires plated with nickel and not with silver, which tarnishes more 
readily; that the cyclometer revolves with the axle and registers the distance, 
the big pointer moving along one notch on the hundred-mile dial every time 
the little pointer moves entirely around the mile-dial ; that I ride a smaller 
wheel than most men having my length of leg, and that long-legged riders 
can propel a very much larger one; that the saddle-bag is filled with oil-cans, 
wrenches, and rags rather than with cigars and whiskey-flasks ; that the instru- 
ment "keeps its balance" without conscious effort of the person who b 
astride it, and can be readily mastered by any one ; that the act of learning it 
is merely a mental process, like the act of learning to swim* — ^** whenever a 
man thinks he can do it, he can do it," — and that the time requisite for 
getting the mind up to the point of conviction may vary from a few minuter 
to several weeks, according to the natural aptitude and persistency of the in- 
dividual concerned ; that, in respect to the English record of " best times," 
Waller has ridden fourteen hundred and four miles in six successive days of 
eighteen hours each (including two hundred and twenty miles without a dis- 
mount), Terront, three hundred and forty miles in twenty-four hours, Apple- 
yard, one hundred miles on the road from Bath to London in seven hours 
nineteen minutes (including seventy miles, without stop, in four hours fifty 
minutes), Cortis, twenty miles in an hour, and Edlin, a single mile in two 
minutes fort}'-six and one-half seconds; that forty thousand bicycles are 
owned in London and its environs, and three times that number elsewhere 
in England, of which some twenty-two hundred were massed together in 
simultaneous motion at the last annual parade at Hampton Court; that 
upwards of five thousand are certainly known to be owned in the United 
States, while the true number is presumably nearer ten thousand, judging 
from the fact that more than eight hundred were present at the Boston 
parade* ; that I myself, while touring through the country, cover a daily 
distance of from twenty-five to fifty miles, according to the state of the 
roads, the winds, the weather, and my own free fancy, though I once rode 
seventy-five miles in a day without special effort ; that the legs do not become 
stiff and weary, as in walking, because they do not have to lift the weight of 
the body ; that the saddle is ftot too small for comfort ; that the wire spokes 
are not too small for safety ; that the rear wheel is not too small for swiftness ; 
that the bell and lantern employed by some riders seem to me needless 

IThe reader must remember that these words were written in September, 1881, since which 
lime there have been great changes in nearly all the records. 


encumbrances ; that I can ride up-hill when the road is good ; that sand and 
mud are the chief obstacles to progress ; that I do not frighten horses. 

Many hundreds of times have I, " by special request," rung the changes 
on all the foregoing statements and innumerable others of similar character, 
and many thousands of times more do I expect to expound them for the 
enlightenment of fresh relays of sympathetically inquisitive fellow-citizens 
whom I hope in future years to meet in distant States and cities. The unre- 
flecting are at fault when they assume that this sort of talk must necessarily 
grow wearisome from mere repetition. On the contrary, the delight in one's 
hobby is, like white-winged hope, a sentiment that springs eternal in the 
human breast. As long as a man continues to find supreme enjoyment in 
propelling a bicycle, so long must he continue to take pride and pleasure in 
exi>atiating concerning it to the new groups of auditors who gather expect- 
antly about him. Sincere sympathy from any source is always sweet, and 
one of the dearest delights of a hobby-rider is \o meet with people who man- 
ifest a disposition to view his hobby admiringly and to exaggerate its relative 
importance, with something of his own enthusiasm. It is not permissible to 
trot out a hobby before one's friends, for the owner, from the mere fact of 
having the hobby, is rendered incapable of determining the point at which 
their expressions of interest in the blessed beast cease to take active inspira- 
tion from the same and begin to rest on the mere passive basis of personal 
politeness toward himself. In other words, he stands in constant peril of 
becoming a bore. But no such calamity can possibly overhang the man who 
discourses concerning his hobby to a self-summoned audience of strangers, 
for, as they are not under the slightest conventional obligation to listen to 
him or to encourage him in talking, such partiality as they may exhibit in 
those directions must be in the highest degree genuine. Thus there is firmly 
established at the outset one of the surest safeguards for a free conversa- 
tion that shall be mutually entertaining to those who participate. 

It must by no means be inferred, however, that the tourist, who prizes 
his wheel as a convenient device for demonstrating that the noblest study of 
mankind is man, confines the examination of his fellow-mortals to conversa- 
tions of this single cast, wherein he himself is always sure of speaking as an 
expert to an interested interlocutor. The talk about bicycling is often a mere 
introduction, an exchange of credentials, a bridge across the chasm which 
separates men of different pursuits, a pleasant prelude productive of confi- 
dence whercfrom follow more extensive talks on a great variety of topics. It 
is hard to imagine a man so ignorant or inexperienced or stupid as not to be 
mteresting, if once he can be made to talk about his specialty ; and I glory in 
the bicycle because of its magnetic power in drawing to the surface the quaint 
characteristics of many peculiar people, which they could never be tempted to 
reveal to the casual stranger not possessed of this persuasive instrument. 
The instructive personal debates and enlivening interchanges of sentiment 
which take place in country bar-rooms and city lager-beer saloons may also 


be freely overheard by the touring bicycler, absorbed as he seems to be in 
the cleaning and polishing of his machine. Without this his presence would 
be looked upon with vague suspicion and hostility, and, unless he should 
" set up the drinks " several times and thus *' make himself one of the boys,** 
a lull would soon fall on the gathering, and an uneasy sensation of being 
watched by the coldly-critical eye of a respectable interloper not of their class 
would render the conversationalists unable to maintain their customary 
sprightliness and ** tone." But the bummers and beer-guzzlers do not resent 
as intrusive the presence of the stranger who runs a wheel. They accept 
him as one of themselves. He is a fellow-sportsman, a member of "the 
fancy," a man ''working to win a bet." They assume the necessity of his 
"finishing the race on time" as a satisfactory excuse for his temporary 
abstention from strong drink. Hence his refusal to share in their revels and 
his keeping his own counsel do not lower him in their respect or create a 
coolness against him. They go right on in their customary lying and brag- 
ging to one another, as unreservedly as if the unsuspected student who is care- 
fully taking to heart the lesson in life thus presented were a thousand miles 

An amusing tribute to the gracefulness and ease of bicycling is uncon- 
sciously paid by every urchin who cries, ** Let her out, mister 1 " or, •* Why 
don't you go fast?" to a rider who is already proceeding as rapidly as a 
horse usually trots. The cry shows that noise and an appearance of violent 
muscular effort are so associated in the mind of the spectator with the notion 
of swiftness that he cannot readily grasp it in their absence : he cannot easily 
believe his eyes when they alone tell him that this noiseless apparition, with 
the slowly- and smoothly-moving legs, is really flying fast over the ground. 
There is something comic, too, about the manifest inability of all classes of 
people to accept the " tour a-wheelback " with any degree of seriousness, — to 
regard it in the same light as they regard a journey made with the help of a 
heavier vehicle which has to be propelled by steam- or horse-power. If a 
man in a buggy, stopping in front of a village tavern to water his horse, should 
announce that he was riding through the country for his own recreation, no 
one would think of asking him, "How far can you drive in a day?" nor 
would it occur to any one that he was spending his vacation in a particularly 
unreasonable manner ; nor yet would a doubt be raised as to the probability 
of his returning at his journey's end to the same commonplace and unobtru- 
sive mode of earning a livelihood to which he had presumably been accus- 
tomed. But a man on a bicycle is assumed by everybody to be testing his 
speed, to be spending his entire ph3rsical energy on the problem of covering 
the greatest possible number of miles in a given time. He is also assumed 
to keep up this character continuously, at least to the extent of having no 
other regular occupation or pursuit. No one for a moment thinks of him as 
an ordinary work-a-day member of society, who, when his brief outing is 
ended, resumes the common garb of civilization and bears a hand again in 


the common battle for bread and butter. The bar-room gentry, as already 
remarked, accept him as '^ a sport/' and yield to him as his rightful due the 
deference they would humbly extend to a prize-fighter, or collar-and-elbow 
wrestler, or distinguished gambler, or successful horse-jockey, or the winner 
of a long-distance walking-match. This theory, that the rider must be 
" racing on a bet," is also widely prevalent outside the bar-rooms. Second 
only to it in popularity is the notion that he is an agent for the sale of the 
machines, or at least that the manufacturers thereof pay him a salary for 
wheeling himself through the country as an advertisement for them, even if 
he is not an out-and-out ** drummer." Others, again, evidently look upon the 
biqrcier as a creature of infinite leisure, a favored child of fortune, who has 
morosely turned his back on "society," in weariness of the conventional 
pleasures to which it restricts the possessor of wealth; and who has now 
recklessly thrown himself upon the wheel, as a last desperate resource for 
getting rid of his superfluous time and money. 

When I respond to the customary interrogations by saying that I don't 
know " how far I could ride in a day," because I never tried to " make a 
record " ; that such brief bits of leisure as can be snatched from the routine 
business of life I devote to bicycling simply " for the fun of it," because it is 
the cheapest, healthiest, and swiftest way yet devised for seeing something of 
the country and its people; that, though I should be sore and stiff and 
weary at the dose of a day spent in a carriage which a horse had dragged 
fifty miles, I can from my perch of pig-skin propel myself a similar distance 
in a similar time without any similar evil results ; when I utter commonplace 
truths of this sort, I always do it with an amused consciousness that my scep- 
tical auditors are severally assigning to me in their crafty minds the various 
ulterior motives before mentioned as somehow seeming to them a more plau- 
sible explanation of my conduct than the motive which lies plainly on the sur- 
6u». It is not to be denied, however, that the spectacle often presented by a 
wheelman coming in at night, reeking with perspiration, his tattered garments 
discolored by dust, does seem a trifie inconsistent with his claim that he has 
had a pleasant and easy day of it; and if, under such circumstances, a cynic, 
wielding his fan on the veranda, is to repeat the remark of Sir G. Comewall 
Lewis, that "life would be a very endurable thing were it not for its amuse- 
ments," I certainly shall not begrudge him his mild indulgence. It seems 
probable, furthermore, that the scepticism as to the fact of a bicycle-tour being 
undertaken " merely for fun " would be less pronounced where a large party 
were seen participating in the amusement; for the astonishing lack of re- 
source in himself possessed by the average man is revealed by his inability 
even to comprehend the notion of another man's sticking to solitude as a mab 
ter of preference when on pleasure bent. The loneliness of the alleged sport 
is the last straw which fixes his belief that something else besides sport must 
be " behind " bicycling. " Admitting everything you claim about the ease 
and exhilaration of the pastime, what conceivable pleasure can be found in 


taking long tours through the country all alone ? " Such is the " clincher " 
into which his scepticism is ultimately condensed. My customary reply to it 
is in this oracular form : ** The pleasure of ' riding alone ' depends very much 
on whether or not a man takes good company with him." It is often funny 
to watch the facial expression of the people to whom this explanation is 
offered. Some smile dubiously, some are perplexed, some think the speaker 
is *' a little off " ; even the bar-keeper has been observed to relax his heavy 
brows, as if trying to grapple with a thought. 

Some of the things already said by me concerning the prevalent ignorance 
and scepticism and misapprehension about the bicycle may perhaps have 
seemed rather improbable to the reader, because inconsistent with the knowl- 
edge of the subject presumably diffused in all directions by the eight or ten 
thousand machines now in use and by the abundant advertisements and news- 
paper articles concerning them. I therefore hasten to say that on every exten- 
sive ride I not only meet with many people who have never seen a bicycle, 
but I also meet with not a few who have never even heard of the existence 
of such an instrument. Observing me rolling the thing along on foot, they 
often ask if I am ** measuring the roads for a map '* ; and when I assert 
in reply that the wheel is designed to be ridden upon, they no more believe 
that I am speaking seriously than they would if I declared it to be ^ balloon 
with which one might fly through the clouds. The words and looks with 
which such simple folk manifest their astonishment when the miraculous 
mount is made into the incredible saddle, and the impossible vehicle is driven 
swiftly along before their very eyes, cannot be reproduced by any ingenuity of 
the pen. Neither can I hope, in repeating the remark of an honest old coun- 
tryman whose carriage I passed, after giving the customary warning of 
'* Please mind your horse, sir," to convey any adequate idea of the overwhelm- 
ing surprise indicated by the tones of his voice. His words (let dashes indi- 
cate his pauses for astonishment in uttering them) were these : " What — ^in — 
the— ^evil— do— you — call — that ? " Comparable to this was the speech of a 
drowsy lock-tender on the Erie Canal, who became conscious of my presence 
only at the instant of my dismounting close in front of him : "I'll swear, 
stranger, " said he, after recovering somewhat from the first shock of bewil- 
derment, "if you didn't half make me frightened I What with your white 
breeches, — and white shirt, — and white necktie, — and white hat, — and white 
face,— I almost thought the devil himself had jumped down on me I " This 
was said with entire good nature, without a suspicion that any part of it could 
be construed as offensive or uncomplimentary. It seemed to the " canaller," 
in fact, quite an achievement in the way of facetiousness; for, as I stepped 
inside the lock-house to get a drink of ice-water, I heard him repeat it to the 
men who had gathered around ; and when I came out to mount, he addressed 
every word of it to me again, while he affably grinned good-by. Along the 
Erie Canal, I may remind the reader, the normal " local color " of the human 
countenance is assumed to be lobster-red. The burning sunshine maybe 


accredited with this result in the case of the women on the boats, but the fiery 
beverages dispensed at the lock-houses possibly have something to do with it 
in the case of the men. Even that mild decoction known as " bottled sarsapa- 
rilla," or " root beer," which is presumably kept on hand only to acconuno- 
date the children of the fleet, is given a peppery addition by the bar-keepers 
of the canal. 

Of the numerous novel experiences I have met with in the course of a hun- 
dred miles of tow-path touring, the earliest was the most exciting, because of 
its suggestion of a tragic termination. I had passed many of the boat-pulling 
teams from the rear without a suspicion of trouble, but the very first pair of 
mules that I met face to face suddenly whirled about, and, tripping up their 
driver with the tug-rope, sent him rolling over and over down through the 
weeds and brambles of a thirty-foot embankment. I shouted to the man to 
inquire if he was hurt or if he needed my help, but he answered me not a 
word. The force of life-long conviction that there existed only one responsible 
source for all the evils in the world — namely, his mules — could not be upset by 
any such slight tumble. Getting his shaken body together, therefore, and scram- 
bling up the bank, he utterly ignored my existence or connection with the case, 
but poured forth a torrent of the most profoundly complicated cursing into 
the capacious ears of his team, simultaneously belaboring their well-tanned 
sides and quarters. The captain's wife, however, took a less mystical view 
oi the matter. Recognizing in me the responsible cause of the mules* mis- 
behavior, she leveled against me a tirade of righteous though somewhat inco- 
herent indignation and abuse. The point of it was that I was liable to fine 
or imprisonment merely for having a vehicle on the path, as I must well know 
from the warning sign-boards of the bridges, if haply I had ever learned to 
read ; that if the mules had seen fit to commit suicide by jumping into the 
canal or plunging down the bank, I should have had to pay the price thereof ; 
and that, in general, only the extreme and unusual mildness of her disposition 
caused her to graciously refrain from springing ashore and dragging me ofE to 
jail forthwith. Thereafter, on the tow-path, I deferentially dismounted in the 
face of all approaching mules, though their drivers often persuasively shouted, 
•* Come on, cap*n I Don't stop for these damned mules 1 They can't get 
away with me. 1*11 risk *em. I'll stand the damage.** The remarks and 
comments of the people on the boats were almost always good-natured, gen- 
erally respectful, and rarely uncivil or sarcastic, even when designed to be 
jocular and to exhibit the smartness of the speaker. One form or another of 
" Wheredyecumfrum, judge?** and " Howfuryergoin', major?** were the 
invariable inquiries, which " Schenectady *' and " Buffalo '* satisfactorily set- 
tled. I here call to mind the quaint observation of a certain tall humorist at the 
helm, who was inspired by the presence of no other auditor than myself when 
he shouted, " I say, general, I wish I had one of them big, old-fashioned, cop- 
per cents ; I*d make you a present of it.** Much richer than this was the 
caution deprecatingly administered to me (in a tone of friendly confidence, as 


of one superior being to his fellow of equal rank) by a mule^iver whose 
aspect was as uncouth and forbidding as that of the ideal tramp: "Yoa 
mustn't mind what these canallers say to you, friend. They are a rough set." 
A little mild chaff from one of the boats was the inspiration of this politely 
apologetic utterance. 

What shall a wheelman do to be saved, however, when two burly rufEans 
demand that he forthwith make an authoritative settlement of their long-stand- 
ing philological dispute by *' saying whether the true name of the machine is 
* bicle ' or * bihycle' " ? What answer shall he give to the worldly-wise man 
who wishes to wager ten dollars on the impossibility of such a top-heavy 
concern being safely ridden ten miles in the course of an afternoon ? The 
cyclometer is always called " th6 little clock," or ** the watch,'* by the chil- 
dren, while grown people often air their superior knowledge by designate 
faig it as ** a sort of pedometer " (pronounced " pe^do-mcet-cr **). When they 
add that " at least it works on the same principle as the pedometer, doesn't 
it ?" is it not pardonable for a tired philosopher, who never saw the '* works " 
of either contrivance, to reply, " I suppose so " ? Were I an adept in natinrad 
history, I might be tempted to prepare a monograph concerning the traits of 
certain rare varieties of the Great American Hog {Porcus Amtricanus)^ whose 
delight in the dangerous pastime of driving skittish and unmanageable horses 
would be worth no more than a passing remark, except for the fact that the 
mere act of purchasing a horse creates the curious hallucination that he simul- 
taneously purchases an exclusive right to the public highways. The traits 
of this Hog can be satisfactorily studied only by a bicycler, for save in his 
inspiring presence the hallucination lies dormant. When the Hog, holding 
in his well-gloved hoofs the trembling reins which he knows not how to prop- 
erly handle, savagely shakes his silken-hatted head, and opens his eminently- 
respectable mouth to abuse me, I seldom make reply of any sort. It seems to 
me that in his case, as in the case of any other unfortunate victim of insanity, 
silence is the best sedative for an angry outbreak. But, as I am not now pre- 
paring a scientific treatise, I can follow the interesting subject no further. 

In dismissing the *' horse question," however, I may remark that, as women 
drivers are apt when their horse gives any token of nervousness to **■ pull him 
in," rather than apply the whip to make him pass the object of his anxiety, it 
is a wise rule for a bicycler always to dismount before an approaching team 
which is not guided by the hands of a man. The mildest-mannered horse in 
existence may be persuaded by persistent pullings-in to cramp the front wheel 
backward until it breaks, or upsets the carriage into the ditch ; and I have 
seen two or three feats of this sort slowly and sedately performed by animals 
which were not at all frightened, and which, under proper guidance, would have 
jogged past the bicycle without a tremor. I ought to say, though, in recom- 
mending the universal dismount before womankind, that some representatives 
thereof will perhaps be found " uncertain, coy, and hard to please," even by a 
man who loyally obeys the rule ; for I remember stopping on one occasion 


for a raw-boned and decrepit *' plug," in the toils of an angular and shrill- 
Toiced woman, who exclaimed excitedly as they slowly passed me (a slight 
priddng of the ears being the only sign of animation on the part of the horse), 
" If you'd ha* set still he wouldn't ha* been scairt.** With this I may perhaps 
be pardoned for coupling another instance of road-side rudeness manifested 
by the sex. Overtaking a pair of well-dressed and comely-appearing women 
on a country sidewalk, where the act of stepping aside involved no possible 
trouble, I proffered, in my most suave and winning accents, the customary re- 
quest, '* Will you please give me the inside track for a moment ? '* Imagine 
my surprise, therefore, when one of the women, who had been for some time 
taking glances backward to measure my approach, continued bravely on in 
the middle of the pathway, only yielding it to me as I was just on the point 
of being forced to dismount, and then remarking, " I suppose you know what 
the law is, mister?** — ^'^ Yes, indeed, madam,*' said I : "the law is that a lady 
must always have the grace to grant any trivial favor which a man asks of 
her dvilly." Our conversation extended no further. 

** Bicycle-touring may be all very fine in Great Britain, or on the conti- 
nent of Europe, where the roads have been used and kept in repair for cen- 
turies, but it can hardly be practicable in America, where the highways are 
generally poor, except in the neighborhood of the big cities, — ^the early intro- 
duction of railways having removed the chief incentive to good road-building 
on this side the Atlantic." Such is a fair statement of the a priori view of 
the case ; and it must seem a perfectly plausible and reasonable view to those 
who have not made themselves minutely acquainted with the facts. The 
facts, however, as brought to light by the actual explorations of bicyclers, 
show that the view in question is entirely erroneous. The truth is that there 
are many sections of the United States where good riding may be had almost 
continuously for a hundred miles at a stretch, and where, by the aid of train 
or boat, much longer tours may be readily laid out. In offering examples of 
these I will confine m3rself to paths over which I have personally pushed the 
wheel in the course of the last two years (during which my cyclometer has 
registered some four thousand miles), though the log-books of riders in 
other parts of the country might doubtless show a record of many additional 
tours equally practicable and attractive. The "Connecticut Valley trip" 
may well begin at Meriden and extend northward through Hartford, Spring- 
field, Greenfield, and Braftleboro to Bellows Falls,— say one hundred and 
fifteen miles. Riding thence by train over the mountain to Rutland (two 
hours), the bicycler may there begin a charming course of twenty-five miles to 
Whitehall, near Lake George ; and, having " done ** the beautiful lake to any 
degree that suits him, he may drive his wheel from Caldwell to Albany, about 
sixty miles, and thence down the old post-road on the east side of the Hudson 
homeward to New York. Here is a track three hundred and fifty miles 
loi^, extending through four States, embracing a great variety of attractive 
scenery, and rich bo^h in historic associations and in objects of *<contem- 


poraneous human interest." A fortnight given to this tour would cost a man 
but forty dollars, and he might reduce the cost to thirty if he cared to econo- 

From Niagara I have ridden to Buffalo, Erie, and Ashtabula, — one hun- 
dred and fifty-six miles, — in three successive days, over the excellent ** ridge- 
road," which generally keeps in sight of the lake. I recommend, however, 
that the tourist who tries this track should start at Girard, in the northwest 
corner of Pennsylvania, and ride eastward to Niagara, whence, I am told, a 
good road runs to Rochester and Syracuse, — ^at which latter point my own 
knowledge of the Erie tow-path ends. I found it impossible to do any rapid 
riding on that path, for I was three days in covering one hundred and ten 
miles; but it may be inferred from some of my previous remarks that the 
chance there afforded for holding sweet communion with the "canallers" 
was a thing which had not a little attractive force, and I will also add that 
the scenery of the lower Mohawk Valley from Schenectady to Utica makes 
the route a pleasant one to explore. On the Chesapeake and Ohio Canals 
which extends along the border of Maryland for one hundred and eighty-four 
miles, from Cumberland to Georgetown, I found the scenery of the upper 
half the more attractive, while the riding was much smoother than below. 
From New York to Boston the best road lies along the towns of the sea-shore 
as far as New Haven, whence it goes inland through Hartford, Springfield^ 
and Worcester. Beyond Boston the tour may be continued up the coast as 
far as the river which separates Maine from New Hampshire at Portsmouth* 
say sixty-five miles. The return trip from Boston may be made through 
Taunton or Providence to Newport, where a transfer must be effected to 
Greenport, on the eastern extremity of Long Island. The road usually taken 
from that point to New York City measures just about a hundred miles, and 
the trip to Portsmouth and back as thus outlined implies rather more than 
five times that distance to be gone over upon the wheel. The journey can be 
pleasantly accomplished in three weeks, though a tourist who has leisure to 
inspect the various wonders on the way may well devote four to it. Some of 
the smoothest sections of the whole track are on the south shore of Long 
Island ; and it may be worth recording that last year, on the first Wednesday 
of September, between six in the morning and seven at night, I rode through 
the Island, from Sayville to Flushing, a distance of more than fifty miles 
though the mercury stood for much of the time at ioo° in the shade, and 
most of my riding was done in the fierce glare of the sun. Inasmuch as that 
day all along the Atlantic slope was by official observation not only "the 
hottest on record for the season of 1881," but also " the hottest on record for 
the past seven years," I think that my ride, attended as it was by no exces- 
sive discomfort and followed by no evil effects, speaks well for the physical 
healthfulness of bicycling. 

When bad wheeling compels the tourist to resort to the railroad train, he 
usually has little difficulty in securing safe transit for his wheel in the bag- 


gage-car, after placating the lordly commander thereof either with civil expla- 
nations or with a quarter-dollar in current coin ; but it is greatly to be desired 
that the transportation companies should issue definite and intelligently-con- 
sidered fegulations concerning this peculiar class of "baggage." Neither 
does the tourist often have much trouble in "finding his way" from one 
point to another of his chosen route, for the " best roads ** — ^which are the 
ones selected for touring — are usually the old-established thoroughfares, 
whose identity is apt to be well preserved at the forks and crosses, and, in 
cases of doubt, a house generally comes within hail before many miles are 
traversed. It is not difficult to so plan one's movements in a given day as to 
be sure of having a hotel within reach about noon and about nightfall ; but 
the decision as to where one's baggage shall be sent two or three days ahead 
is not quite so easy. One complete change of clothing in addition to what he 
wears is about all that a wheelman can comfortably carry, and this does well 
enough for the first night, but by the second or at latest the third night it 
becomes very desirable for him to reach his " base of supplies." To deter- 
mine in advance the proper point to establish this at, when planning a tour 
on an unknown road, where the rate of progress is uncertain, is one of the 
most puzzling problems for the tourist. 

The food and lodging which one gets at the country hotels are usually 
endurable, and are supplied to the bicycler when he is least in a mood to be 
exacting in his demands. He furthermore has the assurance of being invited 
to sleep in " the best room " that the house contains, and of being " fed off 
from the top shelf ** of its pantry. He has numberless chances for observing 
novel and unaccustomed jjhases of "American cookery,** "table-manners,** 
and •* waiting." The universal negro waiter, as is w^ell known, likes to dis- 
pense his dishes and arrange the table-ware with a grand flourish and clatter 
and uproar ; but it struck me as funny that the women waiters who take control 
of the wayfarer at most of the hotels in the Mohawk Valley should agree in 
cherishing as their ideal of extreme "style** in table-service the knack of 
giving rapid utterance to the names of several dishes on the bill-of-fare, as if 
they all composed a single word. None of these girls ever shows the slight- 
est tact in observing the real wants of a person at the table or in supplying 
them. Having in a single breath snapped out, Roastbeefroastturkeyboiled 
muttonandfriedham,'* her interest in the case practically ceases, and she 
thenceforth goes about her business with the proud consciousness of duty 
done ; and done not only in a complete but in an impressive and stylish man- 
ner, creditable to the reputation of the house. Incidentally she may occa- 
sionally condescend to bring out some of the dishes that have been ordered 
in response to her polysyllabic crj*. 

I have made no attempt to describe or discuss the relations of the Small 
Boy to bicycling, for those are of so important and interesting a character 
that nothing less than a separate essay could pretend to do them justice. 
When, however, I hear a philistine say sneeringly of the sport that it is a 


"boyish pastime " for grown men to engage in, I feel like saying to him that 
if he would substitute "boy-like" for the other adjective he might speak 
more truly, and might thereby give the highest praise that can be given to 
bicycling. Certainly may it be said that no genuine, healthily-organized boy 
is now drawing the breath of life who can look upon the glittering spokes of 
a bicycle without an ardent longing to have them whirling merrily under his 
toes; and certainly do I believe that no grown man who takes delight in 
swiftly cleaving the air on the back of the silent steed of steel can fail to 
carry with him some of the noble freshness and bloom of boyhood, — ** the 
golden, the happy, the unforgotten ! " It was Coleridge, if I remember 
rightly, who insisted that the simple secret of genius is the art of carrying 
into mature years the free heart and fiery enthusiasm of early youth, — the art 
of keeping boy-like to the last Such, at all events, seems to me to be the 
secret of happiness, and such is the theory on which I base the assumption 
that the votaries of a pastime pre-eminently "boy-like" are, as a class, a 
pre-eminently happy set of individuals. Presumptively a good bicycler is 
always and everywhere " a good fellow." Genuine wheelmen grow readily 
acquainted with one another, off-hand and "boy-fashion," because the ele- 
ment of heartiness and sincerity in the sport creates the same feeling of fra- 
ternity and kinship which exists between boys up to the period when estrange- 
ment is caused by the advent of worldly wisdom. 

The quick formation of bicycle clubs wherever groups of wheelmen are 
found to exist is often mentioned as a proof of the sociability of the sport ; 
and the ready opportunities thus afforded for making pleasant acquaintance 
with men in all sections of the country are also included among its advan- 
tages. All these things I have refrained from enlarging upon, both because 
others have better said what could be said and because they are almost self- 
evident, — " they go without saying." I have preferred rather to praise the 
bicycle in its character as a solace for the solitary ; as a companion for those 
whom the voice of nature or of fate has commanded to hold themselves apart 
from the hurly-burly; as a device for enabling the philosophic observer to be 
among people without being of them, to examine at first hand all phases of 
life and society without revealing the mystery of his own personality. The 
bicycler is a sort of benevolent Asmodeus. In him is realized the myth con- 
cerning the traveler with the seven-league boots and the invisible cloak. He 
can swiftly betake himself to remote regions, can see and hear all things while 
his own presence is undisclosed. Were old Diogenes searching for the honest 
man to-day, he would surely tour on a bicycle ; though perhaps the object of 
his search, being presumably a bicycler also, would prove a faster rider. 



[Inspired by fifteen years' contemplation of "Beer,'* as prepared by the 
late George Arnold for The New York Saturday Pressj of August 12, 1865.] 

Genteel, Oh 1 finer far 

On my wheel Than fame or riches are 

I sit. The caracolings of this airy carl 
The vulgar mob may flit Why 

Below; Should I 

They go Weep, wail or sigh? 

Unheeded by ; What if age has dimmed my eye ? 

And, as they fly, What if Pm truly said 

I, Not to be worth a red ? 
Mounted high. Stuff 1 

Sit, I've enough : 

Turning with toe or heel My steed of steel— 

My wheel I My wheel! 

Go, whining youth, 

Forsooth I 
Travel by rail ; 
Fish, or shoot quail ; 

Weave melancholy rhymes 

On the old times 
Whose sports to memory now appeal; 
But leave to me my wheel. 

Wealth melts like snow ; 

Love leads to woe ; 

If I tread my troubles down. 
Without a frown, 

In speeding on from town to town. 
Then do I wear the crown, 

With wheel or whoa I 

iFram Puck, August 11, 1880, p. 404. The original, " Beer," may be found on p. 139 of 
" Geoige Araold's Poems " (Boston : Fields, Osgood & Co., 1871). 



Those five words would form my answer to anyone v/ho might repeat 
to me the question which an ingenuous youth recently addressed to an 
editor : " Will you tell me briefly what is the best costume to adopt for tour- 
ing on a bicycle ? " I smiled a smile when I read the enquiry, because of 
its amusing assumption that, in a matter so notoriously dependent upon 
individual taste, any single conceivable costume is demonstrably " the best." 
Nevertheless, if anyone cares to call upon me as an oracle, I trust I shaU 
always be found ready to respond with a properly oracular utterance. I at 
least know by experience what is " the best " for myself, and that is about as 
much as anyone can fairly pretend to know when he grapples with the tre- 
mendous subject of "clothes." At least half of the four thousand miles 
registered by my cyclometer presumably represents tours and excursions ; and 
the object of my present writing is not to give advice to any other tourist, actual 
or prospective, but rather to explain why I individually, when on a tour, find 
the superlative degree of comfort assured me by the presence of white flannel 
and nickel plate. If any buyer of this book shall feel impelled to follow 
my example, well and good; I will not attempt to collect any royalty from 
him for the privilege. But if anyone shall venture to misrepresent me as ask- 
ing others to follow my example, he will do so at his peril. Should such a 
person ever venture into the wildwoods of Washington Square, he must ex- 
pect me to collar him and to insist on forthwith fighting for the beer. 

The advantage of wfearing a white riding-shirt, like the advantage of wear- 
ing a white dress-shirt when not riding, rather than a colored one, is largely 
a moral advantage : for, as the white fabric shows the dirt sooner than any 
other, its wearer is forced to keep himself clean. The owner of a so-called 
" patent never-get-dirty " shirt, of grey or brown, may sweat through an entire 
season without once consulting the laundry, but the patron of white flannel 
must make frequent visits there if he wishes to retain the right to his name. 
By making the shirt reversible, it is possible to put to use both sides of the 
collar, and that is the part which becomes soonest soiled ; but the whole gar- 
ment will have to go to the wash-tub at the end of five or six days, and oftener 
at the end of two or three. As each washing causes a shrinkage, it is well 
to begin with a very loose collar. When this grows too small, it can be cut 
down to the second button. Finally the collar can be cut off entirely and the 

iFrom " Whirling Wheels : the Wheelman's Annual for 1882," pp. 111-119 (Salem, Mass. : 
J. P. Burbank, 1882, tamo, pp. 135, price $1.00). 



garment used as an undershirt. As for one's white flannel knee-breeches, 
by the time their waistband gets shrunk beyond the buttoning point, the 
breeches themselves become worn out and may wisely be torn into rags for 
the polishing of the nickel plate. 

Breeches, shirt, undershirt, drawers, socks and shoes, in addition to those 
worn by the rider, can be tied up tightly together in a roll, with comb, hair- 
brush, tooth-brush, sponge, soap and vaseline ; and around this in turn can 
be rolled his coat. Stout cords have seemed to me more satisfactory than 
leather straps in securing this roll to the handle-bar, or in slinging it over 
one's shoulder when coasting was to be indulged in. Straps always let the roll 
sag down too far on the brake, while by careful tying of good strings it can be 
kept well on top of the handle-bar, though the strings have to be tightened oc- 
casionally to check the sagging. An excellent device for preventing this is the 
Lamson patent " bicycle shawl-strap," of which I made satisfactory trial on 
my latest tour. The wires of this contrivance are so small that it can readily 
be put in the pocket or slung over the shoulder with the roll to which it ia 
attached, whenever one desires to have his handle-bar free. In dismounting 
at noon to sit at a hotel table, one's coat may be easily assumed without dis- 
turbing the inner roll. I do not insist that this coat shall be made of white 
flannel, since it is not to be worn on the bicycle, but the lighter and shorter it 
is the better. A linen duster and a flannel jacket made without lining have 
in turn served me well. When the day's ride is ended, I take a sponge bath^ 
apply vaseUne to any bruised or sore spots, assume new clothes throughout 
and arrange to have the damp clothes I have been riding in properly dried 
during the night for use in the next day's ride. 

My wish always is in planning a tour to send my valise ahead of me where 
1 may meet it at the end of the second or third day, but it is often impractica- 
ble to arrange any meeting of this sort when one starts out on an unexplored 
path, and in my last tour, which was an all-quiet one along the Potomac, I 
was five nights as well as five days away from my base of supplies. I suf- 
fered no special inconvenience, however, though my outfit was the simple 
one before described, with the addition of a razor and a third undershirt. 
I have never experimented with " M. I. P. " or other bags, which are designed 
to encumber the backbone or handle-bar or axle of the bicycle, and I never 
intend to. There seems no sense in handicapping one's wheel with the weight 
of a bag (letting alone- its ugly appearance, and the awkwardness of climbing 
over it) when the coat or shirt which necessarily forms a part of the baggage 
will answer all the purposes of a bag. The necessities of touring are- con- 
fined absolutely to the articles which I have named, and thos^an surely be car- 
ried more compactly and comfortably in a roll than in a bag. The luxuries of 
touring are innumerable, and nothing less than a valise, sent by express from 
place to place, can keep the bicycler supplied with any appreciable amount o£ 
them. A good wheelman, like a good soldier, should be proud to go in light 
inarching order, carrying in compact form the things that he really needs, and 


canying nothing else. On my first tour, I packed my traps in a bag which 
was shaped like an old-fashioned cartridge-box, which opened by lifting a flap 
at the side, and which had straps at the ends for slinging over one's shoulder. 
The trouble is that a strap or string of this sort, though not unpleasant for a 
few hours* ride, finally chafes and tires one's shoulders if carried all day long. 
The bag or bundle also gives an uncomfortable heat to one's back, especially 
in summer time. I should presume this latter objection, in a lesser degree, 
might hold good against Mr. Wright's " take-me-too " device, which consists 
of a waist-belt to which a roll may be strapped on behind vrithout sagging. 
Though I have not tried it, I have no doubt this is a good thing for a short 
ride ; but for an extended tour the handle-bar seems to me the best place on 
which to strap one's luggage. 

I have never had a lantern, and it appears to me a needless encum- 
brance for the tourist. The " handy English tool-bag " I consider a great im- 
provement upon the ordinary " pocket-book " style of saddle bag, being noise- 
less and more secure against intrusion — though I have had an oil-can and 
a wrench stolen from it at different times, by the loungers of certain lagei^ 
beer saloons where I left my wheel over night. India-rubber drinking cups 
are perhaps worth carrying, though, after losing three from my pockets, I 
have lately dispensed with them. India-rubber pocket pouches or purses, to 
prevent the wetting of paper money and the rusting of keys and knives, I have 
also found serviceable. A straw hat for summer, and a flat velveteen hat for 
early spring and late autumn, are my preferences in respect to head-covering. 
Here, too, I may add as a special summer recommendation for a white riding 
costume, its non-attractive quality as concerns the rays of the sun. I cannot 
too highly praise the comfort and convenience ensured by wearing "ball- 
catcher's gloves " which protect the palm and leave the fingers entirely free. 
The back of the hand is also uncovered, the glove being kept in place by a 
button behind the wrist. The cost varies from seventy-five cents to twice 
that amount, according to the quality of the buckskin. 

Perhaps it is the result of my country " bringing up " that I always wear 
boots rather than shoes for out-door walking. Anyhow, being accustomed to 
boots alone, it seemed to me the proper thing to continue wearing them when 
I first got astride a bicycle; and my touring experiences have only confirmed 
my partiality for that sort of leg-covering. In one of my earliest rides a dog 
took my left calf between his jaws, and had it not been cased in leather he 
would have taken a part of it away with him. He didn't hurt me much in 
fact, but he cured me of all inclination to expose my extremities in the regu- 
lation stockings %nd low shoes, which most bicyclers affect. I should sup- 
pose that the dust and sand and mud would work their way disagreeably into 
such shoes on long tours where much walking had to be done, and that the 
freezing cold air would work its way disagreeably through such stockings on 
wintry days. But never mind ; boots also have their disadvantages. On a 
hot day the legs of a bicycler's boots are apt to get so damp from perspiration. 



that, if he takes them off, he can't pull them on again until they have been 
dried. Hence, it is a rather hazardous venture for him to take a swim, no 
matter how tempting a lake or river may be by the roadside, until he gets to 
the end of his day's riding. The lower button of the breeches-leg put through 
a slit in the top of the boot readily keeps it in place and prevents all dust 
from entering. Top-boots that reach to the knee, and are made of leather 
stiff enough to prevent any sagging at the ankle, I have fo^nd agreeable for' 
winter riding. A velveteen jacket and corduroy breeches I consider a suit- 
able rig for short rides in the cold weather. As a club uniform is a thing which 
exists only for purposes of display, it seems to me that the jacket, whatever its 
color, should be made of velveteen, and that the breeches, whatever the ma- 
terial, should be white. Any club that disregards either of these two points 
decreases by just so much its chance of showing off well on the grand parade. 
Were I a club-man I should force all my fellow members to turn out in jack- 
ets of crimson velveteen, or else I should kill them, every one 1 

Velveteen is really the cheapest because it is the most durable of fabrics 
to employ for such a purpose, and even the first cost of a riding-coat made 
of it (say fifteen to twenty dollars) is not so very much in excess of one made 
of any other good cloth ; though the latter will grow shabby in a season or two 
while the former will last for a lifetime. Cheap as it is, however, its showiness 
makes it seem unsuitable for ordinary masculine attire (professional gamblers 
and Italian pea*nut venders being the only two classes of men who habitually 
wear it), and hence, like other rare and unusual things, it impresses the average - 
beholder as being extremely costly as well as ornate. A dozen glossy jackets 
of velveteen in a club parade will seem more imposing than twice that num- 
ber made of commoner cloth ; just as the dazzling brightness of completely 
nickeled bicycles will challenge twice as much admiration as the glitterless 
whirring of those which are " as common looking as carriage wheels." Both 
the shiny coats and the shiny wheels, because they are so distinctly contrasted 
to the popular conception of such things, appeal strongly to the popular 
imagination, and hence help to give dignity to the pastime of bicycling. A long 
procession of men "in silk attire," sitting on "wheels of silver," is too sig- 
nificant a spectacle " to be sneezed at " ; even the wayfaring man must be 
impressed by the notion that it represents something solid and permanent. 
As regards the solitary rider, the sheen of his plush jacket in cold weather, 
like the whiteness of his flannel shirt and breeches in summer, gives an " object 
lesson " to everyone whom he meets, for it plainly proves that he has not been 
tumbled into the mud, nor rolled in the dust, nor smeared with grease and oil. 
It shows, therefore, that the bicycle is a safe vehicle and a clean one. 

The advantage which nickel plate gives the tourist is, like the advantage 
of wearing a white shirt, chiefly a moral advantage, though in a somewhat 
different sense. It is a voucher for his respectability, an emblem of the prob- 
able presence in his pockets of money enough to pay for all he wants. The 
glittering spokes of an all-bright bicycle enlighten the stupidest landlord to 


the fact that the bedraggled and mud-bespattered man who pushes it along 
is not a casual tramp, but a person of substance whom it will be politic to 
treat with civility and deference. Even the lordly commander of the baggage- 
car loses something of his surliness when confronted by so splendid an object, 
and is less inclined to resent its presence in the realm of trunks as an intru- 
sion. A machine with rusty wires and painted backbone, though it may be 
an excellent roadster and may represent a hundred dollars or more of hard 
cash, doesn't impress itself on the uninitiated as anything better than '* an old 
five-dollar plug, which any beggar might own "; but no one can fail to compre- 
hend that a "wheel of silver " must have "money behind it," and to govern 
himself accordingly. Even the most reckless baggage-smasher stands in 
a certain awe of such a beautiful instrument and hesitates about handling it 
harshly, though he may have no compunctions whatever about slamming a 
painted bicycle from one end of the car to the other with all his wonted 

Nickel has the further advantage of requiring a man to spend consider- 
able time in keeping it clean,-rtime which the owner of a painted bicycle in 
similar circumstances would waste rather than spend. When a rider dis- 
mounts in a dripping perspiration and enters a cold baggage-car or colder 
ferry-boat, the exercise afforded him in polishing his wheel is a very salutary 
thing in preventing a too rapid change of his bodily temperature. It is while 
he is working thus also that the members of the admiring crowd surrounding 
him pluck up courage to ask the usual leading questions, behind his back, 
which they would not venture to do to his face, were he standing by entirely 
disengaged. Again, if a man is occupied in cleaning up his wheel in a coun- 
try bar-room, the loungers around the stove go right on with their customary 
bragging and lying to one another, oblivious of his presence, though if he 
were simply an idler like themselves, they would object to him as an intruder 
and keep as mum as oysters. Thus it is that the nickel plate of his bicycle 
serves the philosophic tourist as a mirror in which to watch the varying 
phases of human nature around him; and thus it is that its moral influence 
is as conducive to his advantage as is the moral influence of the white flannel 
in which he encases himself. 

Addendum, March 20, 1885.— The experiences of three later years ( 7,300 m. ) hare not 
changed at all my philosophy of touring, as formuJated in the foregoing essay, whidi repre- 
sented the lessons of my three earliest years ( 4,200 m.) as a wheelman; and my practices have 
undergone but slight modification. The chief change has been the substitution of shoes for 
boots, to avoid the designated disadvantage of being frequently forced to dry the boot-legs, after 
they have become saturated with sweat. In the spring of 1883, I paid $2 for having a pair of 
india-rubber soles added to my riding-boots ; but, though their tomigated surfaces increased the 
firmness of my foothold on the pedals, the device seems too costly a one to be worth the tourist's 
adoption. The wear caused by incidental walking on rough roadways proved quickly destructive 
of such soles ; and, after I had suffered some annoyance from their getting loose and tattered at 
the edges, I tore off and threw away the last of them, on my June tour in Maine, when the 
record was less than 700 miles. A pair of low-cut, machine-sewed shoes, the dieapest obtain- 
able J $1.50), were the first ones with which I took an all-day ride (a circuit of 60 m., August 16, 


1883); and the experiment proved so satisfactory that I retained them pretty continuously in my 
riding until November 7, when their record was about 1,800 m. Their "record," indeed, was 
about all there was left to the shoes, when I kicked them off, at Binghamton, that Tuesday 
noon, in the middle of a hard day^s joiuney of 40 ra., and assumed a second pair, of heavier 
build, with a guard or flap coming well above the ankle and secured by a strap and buckle. 
These were also priced at ^1.50, because of their antiquated and unmarketable style, and they 
served me satisfactorily till April a6, 1884 (i,z8o m.), — though I returned to boots for a brief sea- 
son, daring my 142 m. of riding in Bermuda. My third pair of shoes were nearly identical with 
the second pair in style and price, and they had neariy reached the end of their usefulness when 
I took my last ride m them, December 24 (i,a86m.)- Perhaps 100 m. should be deducted from 
this eight months' mileage, as representing the sum of the short rides when I wore ray ordinary 
walking-shoes ; for, as a result of getting accustomed to the use of shoes while bicycling, my life- 
hxig prejudice in favor of boots, for ordinary out-door walking, has been considerably weakened 
After this extensive experimentation (4,000 m. or more) with three pairs of cheap, machine-sewed 
shoes, I shall be disposed to have my fourth pair specially made, of the best material, at a price 
perhaps double that of the three combined, — for the sake of comparing the ultimate economies of 
the case. My a priori objection (p. 18 ) " that the dust and sand and mud would work their 
«ay <^sagreeably into such shoes, on long tours where much walking had to be done," has been 
an too sadly justified by experience ; and many a time, during the past three years of touring, 
have I longed for the presence of my trusty top-boots, as a comfort and protection in calamitous 
cases of dust and sand and mud and water. My other fear, " that the freezing cold air would 
work its way disagreeably through such stockings on wintry days," has proved to be quite 
groundless, however, — though I have found that india-rubber overshoes, added to either shoes or 
boots, are quite efficacious in ensuring warmth to the feet when one indulges in winter wheeling. 
A pair of black cashmere stockings, for which I paid $1, served for 800 m. before showing 
any holes in the heels; and I then supplemented them with a pair of heavier woolen ones, 
ribbed, of the " Goetze " manufacture, which was for a while widely advertised. Their ma- 
terial was said to be " the best German knitting yam," and as the desired size did not happen to 
be in stocJc when I called at the shop, they were run through the knitting machine before my 
very eyes. They cost $1.50, and I assumed them at the outset of my long straightaway tour 
from Detroit ; but the heels wore through in a little more than a fortnight, when the record was 
800m., or just the same as that of the less expensive pair. With various darnings and patchings 
the two pairs combined served me for 3,500 m. and, as I have since had new feet knit to the 
** Goetze " stockings, whose legs showed scarcely any signs of usage, I presume they will serve 
me for another 1,000 m., at least. The latest 500 m. of my record were ridden in a third pair of 
woolen stockings ($1.35 ), having black legs and white feet —the latter device being a good one 
to prevent the wearer's feet from being discolored by the dye. Cotton stocking^ cannot be made 
to hold their colors, no matter what the sellers may say; and a pair of black ones which I was 
oooe forced to buy ( 40c. ), as a makeshift for bicycling, quickly gave a sable hue to my drawers 
as weD as my feet. The black silk stockings which I bought in 1883 ($3.75), when the League 
gave command that no booted rider should be allowed in its parade at Chicago, still stay by me, in 
good condition after considerable usage on odd occasions. Their lightness recommends them for 
carriage on a tour, as a part of one's evening costume, to be worn while the soiled stockings 
and other garments of the day's riding are being washed and dried. Though the elasticity of 
Ittavy woolen stockings will hold them in place when new, garters soon get to be a necessity. 
But, as they are apt to slip, or prove otherwise unsatisfactory when applied directly to the leg, 
I have found it convenient to suspend each one from a single button, sewn on the inner waist- 
band of the breeches at the seam opposite the hips. 

Experience has only confirmed my first liking for velveteen. The jacket of that stuff, which 
I bought in '79, and which is likely to last me for another half-dozen years at least, served well 
in all sorts of weather during my forty days' straightaway ride of '83 ; and it also proved an ex- 
celknt garment for use on the deck during the sea voyages that were connected with my Nova 
Scotia and Bermuda explorations. The green corduroy breeches, bought at Boston in June o^ 


'8 1, lasted me to the end of my long ride of '83, though more than once torn to shreds in the 
progress of it ; and I still retain them as a most interesting curiosity of tailor's patchwork, — 
both professional and amateur. I had some thoughts, indeed, of proclaiming them by public 
advertisement as a memorial prize, to be awarded the club most largely represented on the sub- 
scription-list of this book, and to be kept on permanent exhibition as a trophy in its chief assem- 
bly-room. My earlier custom, of carrying a pair of long trousers, of thin material, in the roU oa 
my handle-bar, was adhered to by me very generally until the close of 1883 ; but during the sea- 
son since then I have commonly substituted for them a pair of green velveteen riding breedies 
( $8. 50 ), which pack quite as closely and prove quite as satisfactory for evening wear. During 
that season also I usually dispensed entirely with the tool-bag, preferring to carry wrench and oil- 
can in pocket, or else in luggage-roll. For some years my custom has been to inclose the latter 
in a piece of india-rubber cloth, two feet square ; and this cover is also available as a protection to 
the carpet of one's bed-room, in case of taking a sponge-bath, at the end of the day's ride. An 
india-rubber drinking-tube — costing half-a-cent an inch, and carried more easily than a cup — I 
have found to be a convenient device for use at brooks and springs ; though the over-cautious 
may prefer to pay half-a-doUar for " Corson's tourist's delight," which has a filter attached to 
the tube. Needles and thread have more than once repaid the slight trouble required for storage 
in my pocket book ; and I intend on my next tour to carry a little lump of upholsterer's " curied 
hair," which is said to make, when combined with soap, an excellent brush for scouring the 
grease and grime from one's hands. The recommended superiority of a sponge to a handker- 
chief, for wiping the perspiration from one's face on a hot day, has not seemed justified by my ex- 
perience, however. The ease with which the rim of a nickeled wheel may be polished by simply 
holding a rag against it while riding, would appear too self-evident to be worth mentionii^, — 
were it not that " a 10,000-mile man " assured mc that it appealed to him as a new and happy 
idea, when he saw me resorting to it, in Washington, last May. Another well-known fact, that 
white flannel shrinks more rapidly than colored, may perhaps be useful information to some. 
The sight of an " M. I. P. bag," or any other such clumsy contrivance, on a tourist's bicy- 
cle, always conveys to my ihind the idea that the owner is a novice at the business ; but I am 
bound to admit that some men of wide experience on the road do retain an apparent fondness 
for these same bags. I suppose it must be because they lack " the sense of order and proportion," 
which is the natural gift of men who can put a roll or bundle of miscellaneous articles together 
with compactness and symmetry. The non-possessor of this orderly instinct perhaps does need 
a bag, into which he can shovel his equipments at hap-hazard ; but it certainly seems to me a 
terrible infliction to have one's machine thus handicapped with an ungainly excrescence which 
takes up about as much room when empty as when full. Far better than this — for those whose 
love of coasting causes them to insist upon having an unencumbered handle-bar — seems '* the Z. 
& S. carrier " ($a), an attachment for the backbone, alongside of which it can be folded com- 
pactly, when its arms are not needed for clutching a coat or bundle. As for the Wright " take- 
me-too " belt, the persistent praises which were given to it in my hearing by an old army man 
(whose cycling experiences on the road had been extensive, and whose judgment was still further 
recommended to me by his hearty approval of the Lamson carrier, to which he thought the belt 
a satisfactory supplement), finally overcame my prejudices, and I bought a belt, with the idea of 
using it as a coat-carrier on my x, 400-mile tour. A preliminary trial of five miles, however, was 
enough to confirm my worst fears, as to the back-heating possibilities, and all-around discomfort, 
belonging to any roll or bundle attached to the base of one's spinal column. I hate a belt on 
general principles, and I've never made a second experiment with this most ingeniously villain- 
ous specimen. No one can now object to having roe speak my mind squarely against it, for 
" the trade '' long since discontinued its sale. I believe, indeed, that the veritable belt whidi I 
bought was the last one of the kind ever manufactured. It is, without doubt, on the testimony 
of several unimpeachable witnesses, a most excellent device — ^for those who happen to fancy it 
If such a one, haply, shall read my words, let him know that I will gladly sell the belt at a great 
reduction on its original cost. I paid a dollar for it, but the first man who remits to me 99 one- 
cent stamps shall receive the hated specimen, by earliest return mail, postage prepaid. 



Abgumbnt.— " Three wise men of Gotham went to sea on their wheels ; and if those wheels 
had been stronger, this by had been longer." Kron, while taking a solitary, Christmas-eve 
ouise on his stanch yacht, " The Bull Dorg," in search of the Golden Fleas, amid the glittering 
wastes of the Paleocrystic Sea, meets with the goblin trio aforesaid, at the exact geographical 
point revealed to him in a vision by the nautical symbols, " G. B. V. 4. 5. 6. " The following con- 
▼Asation then takes place : 

CycUrs three I What men be ye? 

Gotham's brave club-m^n we be. 
Whither en your wheels so free f 

To rake the moon out of the sea. 
Our wheels go trim. The moon doth shine. 
*Tis but a wheel. It shall be thine. 
755^ moorCs a wheel which shall be mine I 

Who art thoii, so hard adrift ? 

I am he they call Kol JCran, 
On this moon we will thee lift. 

No ! I may not mount thereon. 
Wherefore so ? ^Tis Jove's decree : 
** On a wheel plough not the sea I 
With a wheel vex not the sea I " 

E^en ashore I could not ride. 

For the moon*s a sixty-inch. 
Fifty inches I may stride. 

But from sixty, sure, I flinch. 
Fudge I Get on I T will play no tricks ! 
No I I drive a forty-six, — 
I was born in '46. 

Strange at sea to meet such keels ! 

How with wetter can they cope ? 
Tis magician floats the wheels, — 

The Infallible, the Pope I 
Your wheels go trim. The moon doth shine. 
Now let " The Bull Dorg*' cleave the brine, 
fust go your way, and I *ll go mine. 
Washington Squars, Dec 24, 18S0. 

1 An imitation of " Drinking Catch," by Thomas Love Peacock. Written by request for the 
special midwinter ntunber of T/u Bicycling Worlds January 14, 188 1, p. 153. 


Six thousand miles would make, if extended in a straight line, quite a re- 
spectable section of the earth's circumference ; and the career of the bicycle 
which I have driven that distance during the past three years and a half has 
perhaps been quite respectable enough to deserve a formal description. The 
beginning of this career was made on the Belgian block pavement, at the north- 
east comer of Washington Square, at about ten minutes past three o'clock in 
the afternoon of Thursday, May 29, 1879. It was a surprisingly short beginning 
on six thousand miles, however, for the wheel came to a standstill as soon as I 
had got into the saddle ; and, in my ignorance of the " standstill feat," and 
of the proper way of using my own feet for a quick dismount, I forthwith 
reached out for the nearest paving-stone with my left elbow, and secured a 
dislocation of the bones thereof. While waiting to have them pulled together 
again by a surgeon, whose office fortunately happened to be adjacent, I in- 
sisted, between my groans, that a telegram should be at once sent to the Pope 
Manufacturing Company, inquiring if a nickel-plated cyclometer could be sea- 
sonably prepared for me, so that my second ride might be more accurately 
measured. This remark, coming subsequently to the ears of the Captain of 
the New York Bicycle Club, seemed to him so creditable that he vowed the 
anniversary of it should be duly celebrated by a general parade of American 
bicyclers. Hence the memorable mustering of the clans at Newport, on the 
29th of May, 1880, and the formation of the League of American Wheelmen, 
with officers to summon a similar gathering on each return of that day. 

I am driven to make public this fragment of ancient history — not to say 
secret and unsuspected history — by the remark of -a writei^in the November 
Wheelman^ who, while giving due credit for my manifestations of interest in, 
and friendliness towards, the League, speaks deprecatingly of my failure to 
become a member thereof. He will now realize that I could not with pro- 
priety act otherwise. My position is much like that of the King of France 
who said, Pitat c^est moi. In a certain sense " the League is myself " ; and the 
mere fact that I elbowed it into existence leads me to insist, like Uncle Remus, 
that " I's bleezd to have elbow-room " outside it. I am such a very modest 
man, furthermore, that the pomp and pageantry of three annual meets 
seem already to have commemorated with sufficient impressiveness the date 
of so slight a display of fortitude. Hence my printed argument of last winter 
in favor of making the date of the meet a changeable one, so that it might be 

iFrom The IVkeg/tnan, February, 1883, pp. 368-375. 



adapted to the climate of the locality chosen. I urged, for example, that 
Washington's birthday, 1883, would be a good time for the fourth annual 
meet, in case the city of Washington should be chosen as the place of it. As 
for the 29th of May, it is enough for me, being a modest man, that Mother 
Nature should always send then a gentle shower of rain, — should, as it were, 
bedew the earth with her tears, — ^in kindly remembrance of my first mis- 

I am not unaware that a few envious and light-minded persons have given 
acceptance to the theory that the President of the Boston Bicycle Club de- 
vised the League, in order to honor a certain lawyer of that city, who, on the 
29th of May, 1877, made the "test case " at the Boston Custom House, which 
forced the Secretary of the Treasury to classify the bicycle as " a carriage " 
(duty 35 per cent.), rather than ** a machine " (duty 45 per cent.). I men- 
tion this theory only that I may expose it to the scorn and derision of all true 
bicyclers. It is merely one more illustration of the petty jealousy which " the 
hub " feels for " the metropolis," — one more attempt to honor Harvard at the 
expense of Yale,— one more effort to exalt a *68 graduate above a graduate 
, of '69. The natural prejudice which the first President of the League would 
have for Harvard and *68, by virtue of being himself a '70-man at Haverford 
College (which the intelligent compositor usually transforms into ** Har- 
vard "), explains his nefarious attempt to pervert the facts of history. Modest 
man that I am, I will not tamely consent to be robbed of the greatness which 
has been thrust upon me. I do not want to be oppressed with the burden of 
carrying any more of it. I am anxious to have the League choose some other 
day than the 29th of May, for the annual blowing of its bugle. But I must 
insist that whatever degree of celebrity may attach to that particular date, in 
the history of American bicycling, is due not to a bit of I6gal quibbling in the 
Boston Custom House, but to the extremely practical "test case," made by 
my left elbow with that fateful bit of Belgian pavement lying at the northeast 
comer of Washington Square. 

Two months and more before making this test, I had corresponded with 
the Pope Manufacturing Company, recommending them to open a rink in 
New York, in order that I might, without leaving the city, " have a chance to 
see if I could learn how to ride." But even the prospective honor of selling 
me a wheel failed to induce them to grant my modest request, and so I was 
forced to make a pilgrimage to their warehouse in Boston. There, on the last 
Friday afternoon of March, 1879, ^ niade my first experimental mount, and found 
that ray experiences with the bone-shaker of '69, though forgotten for a decade, 
stood me in good stead. Command of the new-fashioned wheel was gained 
by me very quickly, and, after an hour's practice? I felt quite competent to 
"take to the road." Of course I bought a bic}'cle, and was consumed with 
impatience when the specified ** two weeks " lengthened into two months be- 
fore its arrival. My order, that it be sent to meet me on the smooth pave- 
ment at Harlem Bridge, was mailed just too late to prevent its shipment from 


Hartford to the stony region of Washington Square. The saddle, moreover, 
for convenience in packing, had been screwed up close to the head, so that, 
even if my first ride had been attempted on a smooth road, I should inevitably 
have tumbled, and kept tumbling till I ** tumbled to " the idea that the saddle 
must be set further back. 

Sue weeks from the day of my sudden demonstration that " the successor 
of the bone-shaker " might become a bone-breaker, I trundled it out for a sec- 
ond trial, and practiced step-riding for an hour or so on the concrete walks of 
the Square. A week later, on my third trial, I ventured to slide into the sad- 
dle again, but its advanced position and my own impaired confidence com- 
bined to make my visits there very short ones. The next day, however, I 
got the seat properly adjusted, and, after a few helps at mounting and dis- 
mounting, found I could once more trust myself to " go it alone," on a smooth 
wooden floor. My first road-ride was taken the following evening, Tuesday, 
July 22, on the Boulevard, where, in the course of two hours, I made six 
mounts, and covered four miles of space, with only one slight fall. The exer- 
cise was terribly tiresome and surprisingly sweaty while it lasted, but no 
weariness or stiffness resulted as a sequel to it. Before the next month 
closed I had taken eleven other rides and accomplished 125 miles, thereby 
exploring pretty thoroughly the roads of the New York region, of which I sent 
a minute description to the American Bicycling Journal for October. My 
longest day's record was twenty-one miles, made on August 5, when I went to 
Yonkers, where an importunate reporter tried to discover my name for publi- 
cation in the local paper, and where an equally uncivil dog tried to thrust his 
teeth through the leather of my boot-leg. The thermometer stood well up 
among the nineties, that day, and the hot weather which prevailed during all 
my rides of that month perhaps explained why I never once sighted any 
wheelmen. I suppose there were then about a dozen of them in New York. 

My log of distances, traversed up to this time, had been laboriously com- 
piled by using the county atlas, inasmuch as my agonizing appeal to the 
Popes for a cyclometer that should be nickel-plated, had been quite in vain. 
On the first day of September, however, when I began to do some riding in 
Massachusetts, I reconciled my conscience to the belief that one of their 
ordinary cyclometers, even without any nickel-plating to ensure its accuracy, 
was better than nothing, and so I attached to my axle the little round brass 
box which has registered the miles for me ever since. My first " over-night 
excursion *' began September 9, when I started from Springfield with the idea 
of propelling myself to Boston, 100 miles, and there, perhaps, taking part in 
"A Wheel Around the Hub," for which an invitation had reached me, though 
the exact time of starting had been left undecided. Adopting the mistaken 
theory of a railroad man, that the highway supplied softer and more difficult 
riding than the space between the tracks, I clung to the latter all day, and 
only accomplished 22 miles, ending at West Brimfield, where the rain put an 
entire stop to my very slow progress. On the morning of the i ith I took 


train to Worcester, and there learned that the Boston riders had decided on 
the nth and 12th as the days for their excursion. I was thus too late to be 
with them at the start, but, by resuming my train, I might have overtaken 

them — possibly at Readville, probably at Canton, or certainly at Sharon, 

and thus participated in the larger part of the journey. I afterwards greatly 
regretted that I failed to do this, especially as in wheeling eastward from 
Worcester I went astray over bad and hilly roads and occupied nine hours in 
covering 24 miles, a third of which I walked. The next day I rode in from 
South Framingham to Boston, over the well-known track; and while circling 
about there in the early evening, in the region of Trinity Square, I observed 
numerous dusty bicyclers who seemed to be homeward bound, and who, I 
doubt not, were some of the men whose comrade I ought to have been in the 
" Wheel Around the Hub." I eyed them curiously, for this was the first 
chance I had ever had of seeing any bicycling. I devoted a good part of 
Saturday to exploring the enchanting environs of the city, and then took 
train back to Springfield, with a record of 104 miles for the four days. On 
the 17th of September I rode southward to Hartford, 33 miles, and five days 
later the same distance northward to Greenfield. These were the two longest 
day's rides of the year ; and the longest ride on two successive days was 62 
miles, beginning at New Haven and ending at a railroad station about eight 
miles from Harlem Bridge. This was on the loth and nth of November, 
and a fortnight later I devoted an afternoon and a forenoon to my first trip 
to Tarrytown and back, — ^48 miles. An October trip of similar duration to 
Orange and back measured 40 miles. Most of the rest of my riding was on 
the roads which I had first explored in August, though I made several visits 
to Brooklyn and Prospect Park, and I finished there my wheeling of the year, 
on the i6th of December, when I took a 20-mile trip to Coney Island. 

My entire riding for 1879 amounted to 742 miles, being an average of about 
16J miles for each one of the 47 days when I mounted the wheel ; and up- 
wards of 600 miles were accredited to the last four months of the year. The 
length of track traversed by me for the first time amounted to at least 330 
miles ; and if 130 miles be added to this to represent that part of it which I 
traversed a second time but in an opposite direction, my "new" riding 
amounted to 460 miles, leaving only 282 miles to represent the repetitions in 
the year's record. Reports and descriptions of most of these roads were 
printed by me in the first volume of the Bicycling Worlds 1880, as follows: 
April 3, p. 163; April 17, p. 178; May i, p. 199; May 15, p. 219; May 29, p. 
234 ; June 12, p. 256. Later references to my road-reports in that periodical 
will be enclosed in brackets with the initials B, W, 

My wheeling in 1880 extended through a period of eight months, from 
April 19 to December 16, and amounted to 1,474^ miles, or an average of 
about 26J miles for each of the fifty-eight days I rode. The shortest record 
was 3J miles, the longest was 73, and there were nine other days when I rode 
40 miles or more. My first 50-mile ride was on the 4th of May, when I made 


the round trip to Tarrytown, and added seven miles of riding on the Boule- 
vard by gas-light, to complete the distance. \B, fV.^ Aug. 7, p. 331.] This 
was also my first experience of that sort of night-riding; and I may as well 
say here that I have never made use of a lantern. On the first day of sum- 
mer, I rode from Taunton to Boston, 40 miles, as one of a party of six return- 
ing from the meet at Newport ; a week later, from Hartford to Springfield, 
35 miles ; and two days afterwards, from Hartford to Meriden, 30 miles. 
[B. fV.j Nov. 19, p. '27.] Between the 9th and 13th of July I rode 131 miles on 
Long Island, between Greenport and Hunter's Point, and on the 3d of August 
tried another route there of 25 miles, from Cold Spring Harbor to Astoria. 
[B. IV., Nov. 26, p. 37.] My third round trip to Tarrytown, 43 miles, was 
taken August 17. After this, between the 6th and 24th of September, came 
the longest tour of my four seasons' record, for it amounted to 495 miles, and 
included sections of New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Canada. 
[B. W., 1881, May 27, p. 27 ; June 3, p. 44 ; June 10, p. 56 ; June 17, p. 64.] 
As my riding was confined to fifteen days, the average for each was 33 miles, 
the shortest record being that of my incursion into Canada, September 1 5, in 
the region of Niagara Falls. Before this I had spent four days along the 
Erie Cana), mostly on the tow-path, between Schenectady and Oneida, 1 10 
miles, and ridden for two days, 32 miles, in the region of Canandaigua, where 
I was visiting a friend. From Niagara I rode 38 miles to a farmer's house 
16 miles beyond Buffalo ; thence 73 miles to Erie ; thence 45 miles to Ashta- 
bula, making in all 156 miles, which distance still remains my best record for 
three successive days. The swiftest and pleasantest ride of the tour was had 
in returning on the same track from Erie to Dunkirk, 47 miles, in seven and 
a half hours, including two hours out of the saddle. The next afternoon and 
evening five hours were spent in getting over the 17 miles between Bingham- 
ton and Great Bend. Then came a continuous ride of three days, from Port 
Jervis to the Delaware Water Gap and across the Jersey hills homeward to 
Washington Square, the distance being 125 miles, of which the last day 
claimed 53. My estimate of new track traversed in 1880 is 700 miles, and of 
old track traversed in a new direction 100 miles, leaving 674 to represent the 
repetitions of the year. 

February and July were the only two months of 1881 that claimed none 
of the 67 days in which I wheeled 1,956 miles.— an average of 29},— though 
January saw me mounted only once, when I indulged in the novelty of push- 
ing myself a half-dozen miles over the beaten snow, among the sleigh-riders 
of the Boulevard. My next ride, and the shortest of the year, was on the 1st 
of March, a mile and a half, from the railroad station to my friend's house in 
Washington. Four days afterwards, in the same city, I took my longest ride 
of the year, 66J miles, in spite of having broken off one of my handles the day 
before, and thereby ruined all chance of "beating my best record" [7;^ miles), 
and perhaps even making ico miles. On the 22d of April I explored Staten 
Island to the extent of 23 miles, and then went 17 miles further, through 


Elizabethtown and Newark, to Orange. [B, W., May 20, p. 17.] On the last 
Saturday of May, I began a week's ride of 287 miles, — going first from Boston 
through Maiden and Salem to Rowley, and from Portsmouth to the Kittery 
Navy Yard and back, 46 miles j and next day returning from Portsmouth to 
Salem, a similar distance. Monday witnessed the second annual parade of 
the League, and a trip to Brighton and Chestnut Hill, 20 miles; Tuesday, an 
excursion to the Blue Bell Tavern in Milton, 20 miles ; Wednesday, a trip to 
Dedham, Needham, and Chestnut Hill, 36 miles; Thursday, a leisurely ride 
of ten hours from the Hotel Vendome, Boston, through Cambridge, Lexing- 
ton, Waltham, Wellesley, and Framingham to Northboro*, 54J miles; Friday, 
a final push of fourteen hours, through mist and fog, with a threatening east 
wind at my back, to Worcester, West Brookfield, Ware, Three Rivers, Indian 
Orchard, Springfield, and West Springfield, 64^ miles. [B. W., Aug. 26, p. 
188.] The following Tuesday I went up the river to Brattleboro, 47I miles. 
1 repeated the trip on the 22d of August, in beginning a tour to Lake George 
[B. fV., Oct. 7, p. 259; Nov. II, p. 5], but continued on to Putney, 52i miles. 
Thence next day I rode to Bellows Falls and from Rutland to Whitehall, 
39 miles. The third day, after 20 miles of hap-hazard riding among the 
hills, brought me to Hulett's Landing, on Lake George. The fourth day, be- 
sides sailing through the lake, I circled from Baldwin's to Ticonderoga and 
back, and from Caldwell to Fort Edward, 1 7 miles. The fifth day I con- 
tinued homeward through Albany to Schodack, 57 miles, and on the sixth day 
ended my trip by making an early morning push of 18 miles to Hudson, and 
there embarking on steamer for New York. A week later, September 4, I 
began a four days* ride on Long Island, from Flushing to Yaphank and back, 
140 miles, of which 31 and 43 were covered on my outward trip, and 14 and 
52 on my return. [B, IV., 1882, July 28, p. 463.] Another four days* ride was 
begun on the 26th of September, when I circled 15 miles in the environs of 
Poughkeepsic ; then to Rhinebeck and back, 33 miles ; then down the river to 
Garrison's, 25 miles; then home to the city again, 44 miles. The return trip 
from Tarrytown, on this latter day, should properly be connected with my up- 
trip thither on the 17th of May, for on that occasion I took train to Pough- 
kecpsie, and then was forced by the rain to take train homeward again with- 
out doing any riding there. On the i6th of October I rode 23 miles in the 
park at Philadelphia, and .15 miles the next forenoon in the park at Baltimore. 
Then, on the 22d, I began a six days* tour " along the Potomac ** [B. W., 1882, 
June 23, p. 403; July 14, p. 441], making 180 miles, divided thus : 32, 54, 30, 
'3» 5'- The first day's ride was from Frederick to Hagerstown. Six miles 
beyond there is Williamsport, where I struck the tow-path of the Chesapeake 
and Ohio Canal, and rode up it 48 miles before nightfall. The third day 
brought roe to the end of the tow-path at Cumberland, whence I took train 
back to Harper's Ferry, and from there followed the tow-path down to its 
other end at Washington. On the 1 5th of November I made my sixth trip 
to Tarrytown, 42 miles; and on the 21st of December, the shortest day of the 


year, I took my last ride and one of my longest ones, 6oJ miles. My estimate 
of new track traversed in 1881 is 750 miles, and of old track traversed in a 
new direction, 210 miles, leaving about 1,000 miles to represent the repetitions 
of the year. 

My riding of 1882, as comprised between April 19 and November 29, 
amounted to 1,827! miles, or an average of rather more than 33I miles for 
each of 56 riding days. I celebrated May Day by a ride of 45 miles, from 
Orange to Morristown and back, and three days later accomplished 41 miles, 
including a ride from Orange to Little Falls, Pompton, and Paterson, which 1 
afterwards extended to Hackensack, Ridgefieid, and Fort Lee. On the after- 
noon of the loth I made the Tarrytown trip again, 42 miles ; and on the fore- 
noon of the 26th rode up there, crossed the river to Nyack, and came down the 
west side of the river, through Tappan and Englewood to Jersey City, 51 miles. 
During the last three days of the month, I rode 75 miles in the streets and parks 
of Chicago ; and on the first morning of summer began at Covington a tour 
of 340 miles among the hills of Kentucky, finishing at Maysville on the 9tlL 
The miles recorded on the successive days were as follows : 39, 61, 33, 43, 
31, o, 52, 42, 39, — the blank record signifying the day devoted to visiting the 
Mammoth Cave. The January Wheelman contained a detailed report of my 
autumn tour of 400 miles, beginning at Utica on the 20th of September, and 
extending through Trenton Falls, Syracuse, Canandaigua, Avon Springs. 
Portage, the Genesee Valley, Hornellsville, and Corning, to Waverly (330 
miles), and then Towanda, Pittson, Wilkesbarre, and Newark, where the end 
was made October 12. In the interval of a quarter-year and more, which 
elapsed between these two tours, there were only three days when I mounted 
my wheel : I rode from Hartford to Cheshire, 28 miles, July 18, and next 
day rode 25 more, in the region of New Haven and Branford; and on the 
X 5th of September I rode 28 miles on Staten Island. On the 27th of Octo- 
ber I made a round trip of 31 miles, from Philadelphia to a point beyond 
Wayne. My next trial of a "new road" was made November 13, when I 
went from Newark along Springfield avenue to Short Hills, Madison, and 
Morristown and back, 44 miles. 

My final tour of the year began November 21, when I rode from Harlem 
Bridge to Bridgeport, 55^ miles. The next forenoon I rode to New Haven, 
19 miles. The third day I proceeded through Cheshire to Hartford, 43 miles; 
and the fourth, I finished at West Springfield, 31 miles. At 6 o'clock in the 
morning of Wednesday, November 29, exactly three and a half years from the 
day when I first mounted my wheel, I was warned that a new snow-storm had 
just begun, and that if I intended to work off the last 23 miles needed to com- 
plete the record of 6,000, I had best make a prompt beginning. I finished 
my task in Springfield, at half-past ten o'clock, and then sought breakfast 
with an appetite well-sharpened by a four hours' struggle through the blind- 
ing snow. The air was cold enough to freeze my moustache into a solid lump, 
and hence gave the snow no chance to grow damp and slippery. Thanks to 


the tight clutch kept by me on the handles, my wheel, though it had two or 
three dangerous slips, never fell. 

My new track, ih 1882, was 820 miles long, and my old track, ridden in a 
new direction, was 180 miles, leaving 828 miles of repetitions. Combining 
with these the similar estimates already given for the three previous seasons, 
the following result appears: Of the 6,oco miles through which I have 
pushed my 46-inch Columbia bicycle, " No. 234,*' 2,600 miles were on roads 
that my wheel had never before traversed, and 620 miles were on roads that 
it bad never before traversed in the same direction. In other words, I have 
had 3,220 miles of practically ** new '* riding, as against 2,780 miles on paths 
previously gone over. I believe there are quite a number of Americans who 
have wheeled themselves 6,000 miles or more (though I have yet to be told of 
one who has done that distance on a single machine) ; but to the best of my 
knowledge I am the only man who has practiced bicycling on 2,600 distinct 
miles of American roads. The period described has comprised 1,280 days, 
and, as I have mounted the wheel on 228 of these, my " average ride " has 
been a trifle less than 26)- miles. The average has constantly increased, 
however, as is shown by comparing the figures of the four seasons in succes- 
sion: 16J, 26J, 29i, 33J. The "days" and "miles" may be grouped to- 
gether as follows: 1879, 47 ^^^ 74^; 1880, 58 and M74i; 1881, 67 and 
1,956; 1882, 56 and 1,827^. 

I have driven my wheel in the fifteen following States: Maine, New 
Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, 
New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, 
Ohio, and Illinois ; and I have accompanied it on railroad trains in all but the 
first-named State, and also in Delaware and Indiana. The miles we have 
traveled together by trains are indicated by the numerals in the following 
chronological list of our trips : West Brimfield to Worcester, 35 ; Newton to 
Springfield, 91 ; Hartford to Springfield, 26; Chicopee to Northampton, 14; 
Greenfield to Holyoke, 28; Bartow to Harlem, 8; Newport to Taunton, 34; 
Brighton to Boston, 5; Boston to Springfield, 99; Springfield to Chicopee 
and back, 7 ; Springfield to Hartford, 26; Meriden to New Haven, 18; River- 
head to Yaphank, 15; Oneida to Canandaigua, 100; Canandaigua to Niagara, 
105 ; Ashtabula to Erie, 41 ; Dunkirk to Binghamton, 245 ; Great Bend to 
Port Jervis, 113; New York to Washington and back, 456; Tarrytown to 
Poughkeepsie, 45; Poughkeepsie to New York, 73; Fall River to Boston, 49; 
Rowley to Portsmouth, 26; Salem to Boston, 16; Smith's Ferry to North 
Hatfield, 11 ; Bemardston to Hartford, 67; Hayden*s to Springfield, 17; 
Smith's Ferry to North Hatfield, 11 ; Bellows Falls to Rutland, 53; Flushing 
to Hunter's Point, 7 ; New York to Baltimore, 186 ; Baltimore to Frederick, 
66; Cumberland to Harper's Ferry, 97; Washington to New York, 228; 
Newark to New York, 7 ; New York to Washington and Chicago, 1,041 ; 
Chicago to Cincinnati, 310 ; Williamstown to Sadieville, 19 ; Upton to Cave 
City, 26; Cave City to Louisville, 85 ; Cheshire to New Haven, 15; Albany 


to Utica, 95 ; Oneida to Syracuse, 25 ; Wavcrly to Towanda, 18 ; Meshoppen 
to Pittston, 38 ; Wilkesbarre to Newark, 172 j Newark to Philadelphia and 
back, 162. • 

In addition to the above indicated 4414 miles by rail, I have accompanied 
my wheel 1,044 miles on steamboats, as follows: New York to Pleasant 
Valley, 6; New York to New Haven, 75; Harlem, to Fulton ferry (twice), 
15; New York to Newport, 160 ; New York to New London, 120; New Lon- 
don to Greenport, 15; Battery to Vanderbilt's Landing, 10; Ne?r York to 
Fall River, 175; Hulett*s Landing to Baldwin's and thence to Caldwell (I^ke 
George), 40; Hudson to New York, 115; New York to Flushing, 15; New 
York to Poughkeepsie, 75; Fulton ferry to Harlem, 8; Maysville to Cincin- 
nati, 60; New Haven to New York, 75; Battery to Tompkinsville, 10; New 
Brighton to Battery, 10; Harlem to Astoria and back, 6; Hoboken to Brook- 
lyn, 3; Tarrytown to Nyack, 3; Fort Lee to Manhattanville (three times), 5; 
Hunter's Point to Seventh street (twice), 5 ; Hoboken ferry, six times ; Wee- 
hawken ferry, six times; Pavonia ferry, twice; Communipaw ferry, twice; 
Jersey City ferry, twice; Wall street ferry, eighteen times; Fulton ferry, once; 
Grand street ferry, once. These thirty-eight ferry passages probably amounted 
to as many miles altogether. 

Canal-boat rides of four miles on the Erie, and ten miles on the Chesa- 
peake and Ohio may be added ; and row-boat transportation has been given 
my wheel from Staten Island to Elizabethport, twice across the Mohawk at 
Hoffman's Ferr}', once across the Connecticut at Thompsonville, and once 
across the outlet of Lake Champlain at Chubb's Ferry, — perhaps three miles 
in all. I have escorted it on horse-cars twice down the east side of the city, 
from Fourteenth street to Wall, and once on the same route upwards ; five 
times down the west side from Fifty-ninth street to the ferries at Liberty, 
Chambers, Desbrosses, Canal, and Christopher streets respectively ; and once 
from One Hundred and Eighteenth to Fifty-ninth,— a distance of perhaps 40 
miles altogether. On three occasions T have ridden with it in a wagon, abcut 
20 miles, and I suppose it has been similarly carried a similar distance when 
I have not been in attendance. Its solitary tours, when caged in a crate and 
packed like ordinary merchandise into freight or express car, have numbered 
half-a-dozen and amounted to about 1,600 miles, as follows : Hartford to New 
York and back, 220 ; New York to Springfield and back, 272 ; Hartford to 
Schenectady, 140; Cincinnati to Hartford, 972. 

Most of the distances by train have been given on the authority of the 
railroad guides, but I have been obliged to " estimate " a few of them, and 
have felt uncertain in one or two cases concerning the actual route chosen 
between distant points which are connected by competing lines of quite 
unequal lengths. Some of my steamboat distances have been guessed at from 
my knowledge of the distances on shore. In no instance, however, have I 
knowingly exaggerated, and I am sure that the sum of my estimates falls short 
of, rather thAn exceeds, the actual, distance. I may also add here a word of 



caution against the too literal acceptance of my cyclometer reports as repre- 
senting the exact distance between the chief points that are named in a day's 
run, as if the whole of it were included between them ; for, of course, the 
figures in reality often cover many detours and much extra riding, which can- 
not be specially explained in such a general summary. 

The total distance which the record says I have been carried in com- 
pany with my wheel (5,535 miles) lacks only 465 of the 6,000 miles which I 
have personally pushed it; but the sum of the distances which I have traveled 
on account of my wheel, when not with it, is also quite a respectable one. 
My original journey to Boston to negotiate for its manufacture was 450 miles 
long ; and other special rides may be named as follows : Cincinnati to New 
York, 882 ; Springfield to Schenectady, 118; Syracuse to Canandaigua and 
back, 150; Yaphank to Greenport and back, 75; Paterson to New York and 
back, 32 ; Thompsonville to Springfield and back, 18 ; twenty rides between 
New York and Orange or Newark, 160 ; fourteen rides on the elevated rail- 
road between Washington- Square and Washington Heights (One Hundred 
and Fifty-fifth street), 112; fifty-four rides on the same, to. or from One 
Hundred and Fourth street, 270; eight rides on the same, to or from Harlem, 
48; fifteen rides to or from Fulton street, 30. This makes a total of 2,335 
miles, which the rides I have taken in horse-car and omnibus, on my wheel's 
account, would readily raise to 2,400. The wheel itself is shown by the pres- 
ent record to have traveled 13,160 miles, and I therefore am led to assume 
that it has " seen a good deal more of America " than any other bicycle a- 
going. My manuscript log, concerning its travels and adventures, occupies 
152 pages, with an average contents of 200 words each ; and I hope to pre- 
pare therefrom, for the March Wheelman^ some account of its mishaps, and of 
the cost of repairing them. I may also offer then some considerations tend- 
ing to show that my steadfast sticking to so small a wheel, while it is possible 
for me to propel one which is half a foot higher, is not altogether due to the 
sentimental consideration that " I was born in '46." 

One more exhibition of "mileage statistics" and this present article 
shall be ended. I have wheeled 40 miles in street parades : 14 at Newport, 
4 at Boston, 13 at Chicago, and 9 at Philadelphia ; 52 miles in club runs : 22 
at Washington (three runs), 12 at Poughkeepsie, 12 at Brooklyn, and 6 at 
Brattleboro ; 80 miles with two or more chance associates : 40 from Taunton, 
!6 from Boston, 33 from Poughkeepsie, 12 from Chicago, and 12 from Louis- 
ville; and 205 miles with single companions, numbering a dozen altogether: 
90 between Boston and Portsmouth, 20 between Utica and Trenton Falls, 27 
in and about Washington, 25 about Dedham and Needham, 15 near Dansville, 
8 at Orange, 4 at Frederick, 4 at Newport, 2 at Cayuga, 5 at Philadelphia, 3 
at Brooklyn, and 2 in New York. If I add 50 miles to cover the distances 
which friends have ridden beside me on horseback, or driven beside me in 
carriages, or walked or rowed beside me, the total will be 460 miles, to repre- 
sent that part of my riding which has been cheered by any other " company ** 



than that of myself. All the rest of my 6,000 miles a-wheel-back has been 
traveled alone I 

The surprising part of this last-named circumstance, to me, is that people 
should be so generally surprised at it. Men cannot, in the nature of things, 
readily adapt their business affairs in such way as to make their holidays and 
vacations coincide with those of other men ; and a peculiar charm of the bicy- 
cle is its capacity for economizing every shred and atom of a man's leisure, — 
for increasing his independence in respect to relaxation. Only in .exceptional 
cases can extensive touring be successfully indulged in otherwise than as a 
solitary amusement. What reasonable chance is there that, in a ride of say 
400 mites, two men can get along comfortably together, unless they are very 
intimate friends and of very equal wheeling capacities ? For my own part, 
I have thus far failed to induce a single one of my old-time comrades to take 
kindly to the wheel; and when I ask, "Where are the boys who bravely 
bounced the bone-shakers with me along the New Haven sidewalks, in that 
glad winter of '69 } " echo sadly answers : " Married and dead by the score I ** 
Hence, as I seem thus fated always to "go it alone," I naturally feel an 
abiding enthusiasm for a pastime so perfectly adapted to my disposition and 
" environment." Hence, too, I trust that Mr. Calverley will pardon me if I 
thus parody one of his parodies in order to give rhythmic expression to my 
enthusiasm : — 

Others may praise the grand displays, 

Where flash the wheels like tail of comet,— 
The club-runs made on gala days, — 

Far may I be at such times from it ! 
Though then the public may be " lost 

In wonder " at a trifling cost. 
Fanned by the breeze, to whirl at ease, 

My faithf ud wheel is all I crave, 
And if folks rave about the " seas 

Of upturned faces," let them rave ! 
Your monster meets, I like not these ; 

The lonely tour hath more to please. 


COLUMBIA, NO. 234.^ 

•* Faithful are the wounds of a friend.** So runs the proverb, which I 
must point to in explanation of my singular conduct in adhering loyally for 
four seasons to the fortunes of " Number 234.** It is only an old-fashioned 
Kttic 46-incher, with cone-bearings and big pedals. There is nothing about 
its general appearance to hinder the casual examiner from sneering at it as 
" no great shakes of a bicycle " ; but yet it gave me the greatest shake of my 
lifetime, the very first day I mounted it, and it has since been pushed by me 
over a greater stretch of American soil than any other wheel known to the rec- 
ords of bicycling. Men of more massive physique than mine have had their 
bones broken, and broken more thoroughly than mine were, by the kicking of 
the steely steed ; men of longer purses than^mine have emptied them more lav- 
ishly in the purchase of their mounts; but, to the best of my knowledge and 
belief, I am the only American bicycler whose very first ride (completed in 
less than a minute of time and covering less than a rod of space) cost so 
great a sum of money as $234. Half of that amount was paid for the machine 
itself, and the other half went to the surgical machinists, who successfully 
mended my broken elbow ; but I do not think I ought to be branded as a mon- 
ument of duplicity if, in my more weary and deceitful moments, when questioned 
as to whether the" 234 " stamped on the cranks of my vehicle does not repre- 
sent the number of dollars paid for the same, I use " Yes ** as my easiest 
answer. It is evident, however, that no man— not even a man who earns his 
livelihood by newspaper writing— can ever be rich enough to pay that rate 
per minute for his fun, or that rate per rod for his traveling. Hence, in order 
to "bring down the average " to a point where the expense of riding might 
seem less absurdly disproportionate to my income, I have felt in duty bound 
to drive « Number 234," and none other, until now, at the end of my fourth 
season, I find that that original very costly rod of transportation on the 29th 
of May, 1879, ^*s been expanded into more than 6,000 miles of riding, where- 
of the average cost per rod has been ver}' slight. In order still further to 
reduce this average I shall postpone all notion of buying a new wheel for at 
least two seasons more, or until I have run the record of my old one up to 
10,000 miles. Perhaps by that time I shall have become so firmly wedded to 
my first love that nothing but death can separate us ; perhaps by that time all 

iFrom The IVhetlman^ March, 1883, PP* 43a-436- 


the blandishments of '* the newer and better " will have no other effect than to 
make me cry out defiantly, in the words of Puck's professional poet, — 

" Nay ! TU ding to thee, old bicycle. 
Till thy round red rubber tires 
Pound to rags, and till to toothpicks 
Split thy tremulous steel wires I " 

The chief object of the present article, however, is to describe the manner 
in which the tires, spokes, and other component parts of " Number 234," have 
stood the pounding I have subjected them to in driving it 6,175 niiles, during 
the four seasons past My tours, as outlined in last month's Wheelman^ have 
extended into fifteen States and embraced 2,600 distinct miles of American 
roads ; and I assume that no other bicycle than mine has yet made anything 
like as extensive a trial of them ; but I may as well confess at the outset that, 
though I am as regards ancestry a thoroughbred Yankee from Yankeeville, 
I have somehow failed to inherit the aptitude and ingenuity popularly ac- 
credited to the race in respect to things mechanical. 

To me such things are an abiding and oppressive mystery; to me the 
comparisons of " points," and the discussions about minute details of manu- 
facture are apt to be wearisome, if not incomprehensible ; to me a bicycle is 
a bicycle, and I am so much please'd at contemplating the superiority of this 
sort of vehicle over other vehicles, that I have no disposition to examine into 
the possible superiority of one variety of it over another variety. Hence, in 
spite of my great experience as a road-rider, my opinion as to the mechanical 
merits of " Number 234 " cannot properly be considered that of an expert; 
cannot properly be accepted as decisive, or even weighty. I certainly think 
that my wheel is a very good one, and I certainly think that the story I 
have to tell about the way it has stood the strain put upon it is a story which 
ought to convince the most sceptical that " the bicycle is not an expensive 
and easily-spoiled toy, but rather a cheap and durable carriage for general 
usage on the road." At the same time, if I had chanced to purchase some 
other make than a Columbia, I presume that I should have stuck to it just as 
persistently, and given it just as thorough a trial ; and, for aught I know or sus- 
pect, the result might have been just as satisfactor>-, or even more satisfac- 
tory. In other words, my facts are presented for what they are worth, in 
showing how the bicycle in general resists hard usage. They are not pre- 
sented to show that one particular make is better than all others, or that my 
own individual "Number 234 " is the best of all. 

I had ridden 234 miles, on twenty different days, during which my ma- 
chine had had a good many tumbles, before I asked any one to adjust its 
bearings, or otherwise repair it. Happening, then, to be at the Popes* office, 
in Boston, I indulged in 75 cents* worth of improvements, which included 
straightening the cranks, and cementing the loosened end of the splice of the 
small tire. As spectators always kindly drew my attention to this "cut," by 

COLUMBIA, NO. 234. 37 

poking it with their or fingers, the end soon worked loose again, and 
remained so until I secured new tires, a year later, though it never caused 
me any real trouble. Thirty-three more rides, and 673 more miles of riding, 
brought me to the meet at Newport, with pedals and bearings all so loose and 
rattling as to exdte the surprise and pity of the first experienced riders I got 
into conversation with. They quickly " tightened me up," and instructed me 
how to adjust the various cones and cams ; but until this time I believe I had 
never meddled with a single nut .or screw belonging to my bicycle, except in 
moving back the saddle. At Stratford, on the previous November, however, 
I helped a blacksmith pull into shape a very badly bent crank (at the same 
time, as I suspect, pulling the axle a trifle out of shape) ; and, on returning 
from the Newport meet, my handle-bar got a severe twist, which my compan- 
ions were able promptly to rectify. Perhaps, though, it was a result of this 
twist that, on the occasion of the next severe fall, at Washington, nine months 
later, with 1,350 more miles on my record, the right handle broke square off, 
and a new bar had to be secured. The part of my machine which first broke, 
however, was the spring, which cracked in two on the 23d of August, 1880 
(when my record of miles was 1,480, and my number of riding days was eighty- 
two), though the fracture did not loosen the saddle or prevent my wheeling 
homeward in safety. In fact, though the jarring and jolting seemed rather 
greater than usual, I probably should not have detected the crack in the 
spring at all had I not uncovered it in preparing to attach, for trial, a new 
"suspension saddle." I had bought this, not because my old block-mounted 
saddle was a bad fit, or in . any way uncomfortablCi but because I had read 
and heard so much about the superiority of this new variety, that I thought, 
being on the eve of departure on a tour of 500 miles, that I *' must have the 
best." As the breaking of the spring prevented this preliminary trial of the 
new saddle, I tried it, for the first time, when I began my tour, and discovered 
before riding ten miles that it was far less comfortable than the old one. 
Nevertheless, I had to ride it xoo miles further, before I could get back the 
old one, which I immediately ordered sent to me ; and I have made no other 
attempts at change. As that original saddle is now completely worn out at 
the edges, however, I propose to begin my fifth season with a new one of the 
"long-distance" variety. 

I sent the machine to its birthplace in Hartford to have the broken 
spring replaced ; and, as the pedals had become unduly worn, because of my 
using them for the first 900 miles without making any adjustment, I had them 
replaced by new ones ; and I also ordered new tires, because, though they had 
always stuck tight to the rims, and were not perceptibly worn, the front one 
had received a deep cut straight across it, and I did not wish, at the outset of 
a long journey, to take the chance of its coming completely apart. For these 
renewals, and a general tightening up of the parts, I paid $15; and at the 
same place, three months before, I had paid $1.80 for other small repairs, 
which included new oil-cups and new cones for the rear axle. I may as well 



say here that I have driven my second set of tires 4,700 miles, and that I 
think at least another 1,000 miles will be required to really " pound them to 
rags." The splice in the big tire worked loose in this second set, just as the 
splice in the little one worked loose in the first, though not until I had driven 
it some 2,500 miles, or more than ten times as far as in the first case. After 
two or three unsatisfactory experiments with cement, I had the loose end of 
the splice sewed down with fine wire ; and this improvement lasted for 500 
miles, or until the tip of the splice broke off. Then, at Chicago, I had a part of 
the tire turned, so as to bring the good part of the splice outside. Three days 
later, with another 100 miles on my record, a wheelman in Kentucky drew at- 
tention to the looseness of another section of my tire, and kindly cemented 
it on for me. At the end of my Kentucky trip, when I had run 3,400 miles on 
this set of tires, I had them taken off and turned, so that my last 1,300 miles 
on them have been run with the original rim-sides outward. In saying this, 
I assume that when the tires were taken off, in January, 1881 (after 780 mDes' 
service), in order to allow the rims to be nickeled, they were replaced as they 
stood originally. It appears from this statement, which is an exhaustive one, 
down to the very smallest facts of the case, that in all my thousands of miles 
of touring I have never had any serious trouble with my tires. They have never 
dropped off, or even worked loose to such a degree as to interfere at all with 
my riding, and I have never, personally, doctored them with a bit of cement. 
The first serious break in my machine occurred on the 20th of January, 
1881, when I was making my first trial of it in the snow, among the sleigh- 
riders on Sixth Avenue, above Central Park, — the record then being 2,222 
miles. The air was not particularly cold or frosty, the riding was reasonably 
smooth, and I had not been subjected to any serious jolts ; but somehow, as I 
was jogging along a perfectly level stretch of the roadway, at a tolerably brisk 
pace; the front wheel gave a sudden lurch forward, and I found myself stand- 
ing upright and still holding upright the front half of the machine, while the 
backbone and rear wheel lay prostrate in the snow. The upright part, which 
I think is called the neck, had broken off in the thread of the screw, just 
below the lock-nut. I paid a New York agency $5 to have it welded together 
again, and $20 more to have the whole machine newly nickeled in every part. 
Deep grief had oppressed me from the very outset of its career, because, 
though the contract said "full nickeled." the rims were painted. Hence, 
when I next met my replated " Number 234," and saw how bravely it glis- 
tened along the rims, my joy was great. But disgust quickly followed when 
I observed that, in the process of polishing the same, the spokes, at the 
points of juncture, had been cut nearly half through. My fear that after this 
weakening they would snap at the first severe strain has not been justified by 
actual trial, for only two of them have ever broken. One spoke in the rear 
wheel broke at the time of a severe fall, May i, 1882, at Bloomfield, when the 
record stood at 4,285 miles ; one spoke in the front wheel broke on a smooth 
"^path, at Chicopee, Dec. 30, 1882, when the record had reached 6,140 miles. 

COLUMBim, NO. 234. 39 

Both these wires snapped at the points where they had been cut in polishing. 
I may add here, that none of my spokes have ever got loose enough to rattle, 
and that I have never had any of them tightened except when visiting a ma- 
chine-shop for more important repairs. On a very few occasions I have 
screwed up some loosened lock-nuts, without affecting the spokes or nipples, 
and once, when a nipple broke off without loosening the wire, I pegged it in 
place to prevent rattling. The Jittle bar, or rivet, which attaches the joint of 
the spring to the cylindrical plate sliding along the backbone, rattled out once, 
in September, 1880, when I was touring in Western New York; but a postal 
card sent to the manufactory caused a new rivet to reach me within three days, 
and a nail served as a satisfactory substitute during that interval. 

" Number 234 " was disabled for the second time on the 8th of June, 1881, 
when 2,993 miles had been traversed. As I dismounted for dinner at the 
hotel in Bemardston, after riding twenty miles, whereof the last three or four 
had been made without stop, a lounger drew my attention to an appearance 
of *• something wrong " under the saddle ; and I then discovered that the un- 
der side of the shell of the backbone had cracked open, at a distance of about 
six inches from the head, though the solid metal beneath prevented a com- 
plete break. I did not venture another mount, however, but trundled the 
cripple to the adjoining railroad station, and, next day, to the manufactory in 
Hartford. A new backbone was now put in, of somewhat different shape 
from the original, and the step was attached to it by two short screws, instead 
of by the old device of a bolt and nut The change did not commend itself 
to my approval, however, for in touring along the tow-path of the Chesapeake 
and Ohio Canal, four months later, the screws, after about 900 miles' service, 
persisted in working loose, until I lost one of them. Then I carefully bound 
cloth around the step to prevent the other one from rattling out. But it did 
drop out, and I felt desperate, for I could not mount again without a screw 
to fasten the step on with, and I was "forty miles from any town." As I 
knew the loss had happened within a quarter of a mile, however, I scoured 
the tow-path for that distance, until, at last, I was rewarded by the glisten of 
the little speck of nickel in the sand,— though its recovery would seem hardly 
more likely, on general principles, than that of the traditional needle in the 
hay-mow. My second set of step-screws have not yet shown any signs of 
looseness in traveling some 2,200 miles. The screw at the top of my handle- 
bar broke off, however, last November, and I think that both it and the screw 
at the side of the same bar were put in as substitutes for the original ones, 
which were loose. 

The third great calamity to my bicycle happened just a year after the 
second one, and was in character a repetition of the first. On the 9th of Jone, 
1882, as I was just about finishing a ride of 340 miles among the hills of Ken- 
tucky,— being some two miles from Maysville, on the Ohio river, where I 
intended to cross into the State of that name, and journey throi^h it for 
another week, or until I reached Lake Erie, — I noticed an unaccoantable 


stiffening of the mechanism, which " refused to obey the helm." Careful ex- 
amination finally showed me that the neck had been cracked through just 
below the lock-nut, though the adjustment was so tight that the parts did not 
fall away from each other, as in the similar break of January 20, 188 1. It 
will be remembered that the neck then had a record of 2,222 miles ; and be- 
tween that break and this second one the record was 2,650 miles. I am told 
that the manufacturers, being convinced that this screw-threading on the neck 
is necessarily a source of weakness, long ago abandoned the production of 
necks of that pattern; but, as they attempted the introduction of no new 
device in welding " 234*3 " together again, I supi>ose that, at some point 
between the 2,000th and 3,000th mile after this second mending, I may rea- 
sonably expect that the nftck will break a third time, I can only hope, in 
such case, that my own neck may not get broken too I At the same time with 
this second mending of the neck, new bearings were attached to the fork, and 
it, together with the backbone, was newly nickeled. The lower bearings of 
the front wheel were also renewed ; a new axle, new hubs, and new cranks 
were added thereto, and a new axle and new cones to the rear wheel ; a filling 
was ingeniously inserted to reduce the size of the socket in which the pivot of 
the neck had been playing for 4^72 miles ; and a special side-spring was 
attached to hold up the brake, as a substitute for the unsatisfactory rubber- 
bands previously employed. I may here add that considerable anno3rance had 
been given me, at one time or another, by the jarring out of the brake^crews, 
and on the occasion of a certain tumble the loosened brake itself got knocked 
out ; but for the last 1,300 miles the brake-screws have kept perfectly tight. 

I think that the first time one of my cranks worked loose was on the 5th 
of August, 1881 (record, 3,000 miles), as a result of letting the machine fall 
heavily, and then letting myself fall heavily upon it. A few blows of the 
hammer put the crank right again, and the trouble has never been renewed. 
That same date was, I believe, the last of three or four occasions on wliich I 
have caused the two wheels to ** interfere " ; and my remedy in such cases 
has been to pull the backbone away from the fork by main strength, which 
strength some friendly spectator has helped me to apply. Less than 900 miles 
of riding sufficed to wear loose the second set of bearings on my front wheel, 
and I learned, at the manufactory, that the " shoulders " of the concave cones 
needed to be filed down in order to have them " take hold " again, in obedi- 
ence to the tightening of the cams. I know, too, from my experience with 
the first set of bearings, that after there has been much filing, the cams them- 
selves will fail to " take hold " unless little braces of iron are inserted be- 
tween them and the cones. I paid a Yonkers blacksmith half a dollar for a 
half-hour's work in making me a rude pair of such braces, in August, 1880, 
when my record was 1,450 miles. I believe my record was 5,580 miles before 
I broke my first cam-bolt, by screwing it up too tightly, though I twisted off 
the head of a second one within less than 400 miles afterwards. Thus the 
pair of extra bolts I had carried so long were utilized at last. 

COLUMBIA, NO. 234. 41 

A summary of the parts renewed, as described in the foregoing history of 
" Number 234," includes handle-bar, spring, backbone, step, pedals, cranks, 
hubs, axles and cones of both wheels, tires, bearings of fork, neck and socket 
of neck-pivot, oil-cups, spring-bolt, pair of cam-bolts, cam-braces, screws of 
step and brake, one long spoke and one short spoke. The total cost of these 
repairs was $43.65, to which should be added |20 for nickel-plating. The Mc- 
Kee & Harrington suspension saddle, which proved useless, cost $3.50; 
Pope c>clometer, $7 ; handy English tool-bag, $3 ; Larason's luggage-carriers, 
$1.50; oil, $1.25; padlock and chain, pair of pocket oil-cans, monkey-wrench, 
three drinking-cups, rubber money-pouches, rubber cloth and bands, cement, 
sheet and chamois skins, cost altogether $5.25, making a total for "extras'* 
of $21.50. 

As regards the great subject of " clothes," the bicycle seems to me a most 
admirable instrument for getting the final service out of garments which have 
passed their first youth, and which, except for it, would be laid aside until 
sufficiently moth-eaten and antiquated to deserve " giving away to the poor." 
It is a sort of wheel which grinds up with equal relish the black doeskin 
trousers of the winter ball-room and the white-flannels of the summer hotel 
piazza,— concealing with equal charity the champagne stains of the one and 
the ice-cream smears of the other. I find, however, that, in addition to the 
numerous suits of " old clothes " which I have reduced to rags in the saddle, 
I have expended for distinctively bicycling habiliments the sum of $66, as 
follows: riding costume (green velveteen jacket, hat and cap, corduroy 
breeches and silk stockings), $29.50 ; seven white flannel shirts, $22.50 ; two 
pairs of white flannel knee-breeches, $6.50; six pairs of riding gloves, $5.50. 

The cost of transporting the machine in its crate for 1,600 miles, on a 
half-dozen different occasions, has been $7.38. The fees given to baggage- 
men, with whom I and my wheel have ridden 5,535 miles, together with a few 
tolls and minor taxes, have amounted to $9. Express charges on baggage 
while touring have reached a similar sum ; and I have paid $3 for rent of 
hired machines, and as much more for entrance tickets to races and the like. 
The sum total of all these figures is $181.53, which represents the direct cost 
of my four seasons' sport, in addition to the $234 paid for my first mount on 
" Number 234." I explained in the previous chapter how I had been carried 
with my wheel 4»474 miles on land, i,c6i miles on water ; and that the dis- 
tances I have traveled on account of it when not with it amount to 2,000 
miles, mostly on land. If three cents be adopted as the probable average 
price paid per mile for the transportation of myself through this entire dis- 
Unce of 7f535 miles, the sum of $226 is obtained as the indirect expenses of 
indulging in 6,175 miles of bicycling. That assumed " mileage " may be a lit- 
tle in advance of the true one, but as the cost of my personal subsistence 
while traveling must needs have been somewhat in advance of what its cost 
would have been had I stayed at home, the sum specified as a probable esti- 
mate of " indirect expenses " certainly cannot be greater than the true one. 


A combination of all these figures shows $641 expended during four years in 
traveling 13,710 miles. Of this exhibit I will simply say that I only wish I 
could always be sure of getting as much fun for my money ; for no economist, 
in counting up the cost of his pleasuring, was ever better satisfied with the 
result than I am now, — unless, perhaps, I except the Arkansaw Traveler. 

^ When I began my fifth season of wheeling, on the 17th of April, 1S83, t»y 
starting on a three days' tour from Hartford to New York, I little anticipated 
that the old wheel, whose history during 6,000 miles of touring had been de- 
tailed by me in the March Wheelman^ was destined to travel almost 4,000 
miles within a twelvemonth. I had no possible idea that before the year 
was out I should drive it along more than 1,000 miles of "American " road- 
way protected by the British flag (in Canada, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, 
Prince Edward Island, Cape Breton and Bermuda); should push it across 
the borders of a dozen States of the Union (Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode 
Island, Connecticut, Michigan, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Mary- 
land, West Virginia and Virginia); and should force its ragged tires to mark 
a continuous straightaway trail on the surface of the earth for 1,400 miles. 

Having done all these things, however, it seems proper that I should 
tell the story of how the venerable mechanism stood the strain thus put upon 
it, and of what its condition was on the very last day of its life as an active 
roadster. That day was the 14th of April, 1884 ; for when I then, at half-past 
five o'clock in the afternoon, dismounted at the doorway of the establish- 
ment where " Number 234 " first came into being, I was given the assurance 
that mortal man should never mount it more, but that, on the other hand, it 
should itself be allowed to mount a pedestal, and repose there forever as a 
relic — the object of homage and reverence from all good wheelmen who may 
be privileged to gaze upon its historic outlines. Its total record of miles, 
when I unscrewed from its axle the Pope cyclometer which had counted 
most of them for me, was 10,082 ; but the' peculiarity of the record consists 
not so much in the fact that the distance considerably exceeds that recorded 
by any other wheel in America, as in the fact that the riding extended along 
5,000 separate miles of roadway, situated in twenty-three different States and 
Provinces. Other Americans who have ridden 10,000 miles (and one who 
has ridden 1 5,000) have each made use of three or four diiTerent bicycles, and 
have failed to traverse as much as 500 separate miles of road. 

The round trip of 60 miles which I made on the i6th of August, going 
from West Springfield to Hartford on the west side of the river and returning 
on the east side, was chiefly for the sake of having the cones of front axle 
filed and refitted, after 1,132 miles of usage since April, and a new brake 

iThe remainder of this chapter was printed in The Sfnringfield WheelmttCs Gazette , April, 
1884, pp. 2, 3, 4, with the title : " The Last Days of ' No. 234'." 

COLUMBIA, NO. 234. 43 

added, as the original spoon was pretty well worn out. On the return trip, 
in the dusk of evening, the spreading roots of a tree on a certain sidewalk. 
produced a severe fall, which caused the wheels to overlap one another, until 
palled apart by main strength. As a sequel to this pulling process there 
appeared next day a very slight crack on the upper side of the backbone, six 
or seven inches from the head. A ride of five miles on a smooth road did 
not perceptibly increase the crack, however, and I began to hope that no 
serious break was betokened, until my first sudden stoppage in a sand-rut 
proved the hope to be a vain one. After that, the crack broadened and the 
overlapping increased at every dismount, until at last the rear wheel entirely 
refused to trail behind its leader. Nothing was left for me, therefore, but to 
send the machine back to Hartford for a new backbone ; and I improved the 
occasion to order a new steering-head with it, for the old head (of a pattern 
no longer used) had been jarred very nearly to the breaking point — ^judging 
by the number of miles that had been required to cause fracture on the two 
previous occasions. The first break in the backbone itself happened on the 
under side thereof, two years before, when I had ridden 2,993 miles ; and, 
after its repair, I rode 4,392 miles before the appearance of this second break, 
on the upper side. The record of the new backbone, when I took my final 
ride with it, was 2,697 miles. As the insertion of the new head required the 
fork to be heated, a new coat of nickel was then applied to the same. The 
new head also required that the spring, whose end was attached to a clip, 
sliding on the backbone, should be replaced by one of modern design. 

A village blacksmith in Canada supplied my next demand for repairs, on 
the 15th of October, by welding together the handle-bar, which snapped off 
sqaare at the right side of the fork, as a result of my letting the wheel plunge 
down a grassy slope and strike the handle upon a stone. Four days later, 
another blacksmith fitted some iron plates or washers behind the bearing- 
boxes, for the shoulders of these had been filed down so far, to offset the 
wear of the upper bearings, that the cams would no longer hold. Further 
filings, in the course of the next week's journey, almost obliterated the 
"coned " character of the boxes and reduced them nearly to the condition of 
fiat pieces of metal ; so that at Cazenovia, 1,488 miles from the time of the 
repairs at Hartford, I was forced to make my first experiment with rawhide 
as a material for bearings. This substance becomes pliable after several hours' 
soaking in water, and strips of it can then be fitted between the upper side 
of the axle and the ends of the fork, to compensate for the wear of the coned 
surfaces. When dry, the rawhide is about as durable and unyielding as steel ; 
but, as I took a ride of eight miles within a few hours after applying it to the 
axle, and continued my journey early the next morning, the strips gradually 
worked out of their places and protruded from the sides, where they attracted 
enough moisture, in an all-day's ride through the rain, to still further impair 
their usefulness. After 215 miles' usage, therefore, I replaced them with new 
strips ; and, though I waited only twelve hours for these to harden, they kept 


in position and rendered good senncc without further attention for the re* 
jnaining 994 miles of my record. I doubt if 1 should have been able to finish 
this without new cones on the fork, unless I had resorted to the rawhide. 
Such resort, however, I do not venture to recommend except for bearings 
which are very badly worn ; and I should say that at least twenty-four hours 
ought to be allowed for hardening, after the damp strips have been applied 
to the axle. I may add that rawhide is an article not readily procurable, for 
I learned that in the whole of Syracuse, which is a city of 60,000 people, there 
was only one place (a trunk-maker's) where it could be obtained. 

The tow-path of the Delaware and Hudson Canal, a few miles from 
Honesdale, was the scene of the worst mishap that ever befell ** Number 
234," and its escape from complete destruction then will always seem to me 
like a miracle. A pair of mules, standing on the outer side of the path, 
appeared to have their attention so entirely absorbed by the feed-baskets 
wherein their noses were plunged, that I presumed they would not notice my 
approach from behind, and I accordingly ventured to ride across the tug-rope 
connecting them with the boat. No sooner had I done this than some evil 
impulse led the brutes to pause in their repast and take a contemplative g2ue 
at the surrounding scenery. I dismounted at the moment when I saw them 
turn their heads ; but, in the self-same instant of time, they gave a tremen- 
dous jump forward ; the rope parted under the sudden strain, the flying end 
thereof, glancing from my back, whipped itself into a knot around the right 
handle of my bicycle, and, quicker than I could say " Jack Robinson," the 
beloved form of " Number 234 " was receding into the distance,, as fast as a 
pair of runaway mules could bang it along the stones of the tow-path. They 
were excited enough to have willingly helped it " beat the record " by 
dragging it "without stop for a hundred miles," or until they reached the 
Hudson River ; but a lock-house chanced to intervene at the distance of an 
eighth of a mile, and the keeper thereof rushed out and brought their mad 
race to an end. Just about as he seized hold of them, the front wheel came 
against the plankihg of a bridge with a tremendous thump ; but I was so far 
in the rear that I could not see whether this helped to cause the stoppage ; 
and I wa?? 9,f\ excited and distressed, when I rushed up to view the mangled 
remains of ihe wreck, that I cannot remember whether the jar of the collision 
sufficed to release the knotted rope from the handle. I only recall that the 
machine w;is lying quietly there on the bridge, and that the lock-tender, a few 
rods beyond, was driving away the morning mist by the warmth of his curs- 
ings at the mules. 

" I am older than some sorrows," — ^for no traveler on Life's highway ever 
gets past its half-way stone, which marks the beginning of the down-grade 
leading towards the place called Seventy, without having experiences that 
cause him to grieve; — ^but I cannot recollect another moment of my existence 
when 1 felt 30 thoroughly, intensely, desperately "sick," as that moment on 
the low* path, out in the wilds of Pennsylvania, when " Number 234 " was 

COLUMBIA, NO. 234. 45 

whisked out of my hands, like an object in the *' transformation scene '' of a 
pantominie. With its destruction, which seemed inevitable, many of my 
cherished hopes and plans would fall in a common ruin. I should never 
again be likely to have a continuous trail extending for 900 miles behind me, 
andt simultaneously, a fairly good road of 500 miles stretching straightaway 
before me. I could never again reasonably expect to ** beat the record " of 
coned-bearing machines, or to win the right of putting together a book called 
*• Ten Thousand Miles on a Bicycle " I The thought of my own reckless 
folly, in bringing about the disaster, filled my soul with bitterness, as I 
hurried dolefully along after the runaways. Other greater afflictions I had 
endured cheerfully as inexorable decrees of Fate, for which I was not respon- 
sible ; but here was a calamity which I had definitely and deservedly brought 
upon myself. So absorbing was my exasperation on this score that the 
thought of my own personal peril in the case did not occur to me till later in 
the day. The driver of the boat appreciated it, however, and his pleasure at 
seeing me escape with my life was great enough to prevent his getting angry 
with me for the trouble which my mishap caused him. Had not his tow-line 
been an old and weak one, which gave way at the first jerk, I myself should 
necessarily have been pitched into the canal, and if the bicycle had been 
thrown in on top of me, or if I had come into contact with the boat while 
under water, I should probably have been killed. On the other hand, if the 
flying end of the severed rope had chanced to bind my arm to the bicycle, in- 
stead of simply knotting around the handle, I should have had my own broken 
bones to bewail, instead of "Number 234 's/' as the mules careered along. 

And now I come to the miracle in the case, for not a single part of the 
machine was really broken! Though bent and cracked and scratched and 
badly demoralized in its several parts, my beloved bicycle had survived this 
crucial test, — ^had maintained its integrity as a whole, and was still ridable I 
The handle-bar was doubled back, and, when I bent it into its place again, it 
cracked where the splice had recently been made, and soon broke off entirely. 
I therefore steered with a wagon-spoke for the next eight miles, until I 
reached a blacksmith shop where I could get the bar rewelded. The crank 
and pedal-pin on the right side were considerably bent, and the axle was de- 
flected from a true line, while the rim was bent and cracked at the point 
where it struck the bridge, and two or three of the adjacent spokes were 
thereby loosened and made useless. One of them broke off a few days later, 
and I gave it for a keepsake to a rider in Carlisle. The iron plate of the 
long-distance saddle — with which I began the season of '83, and which served 
me satisfactorily to the last — ^was cracked in two places, so that it never after- 
wards could be screwed with perfect firmness to the spring. One end of the 
wire of my Lamson luggage-carrier was also twisted off, but the carrier, like 
the saddle, I nevertheless kept in service until the very last day of the record. 
That my heavy roll of luggage was not shaken apart and scattered along the 
path, seemed by no means the least remarkable incident of the runaway. 


At Port Jervis, on the day following, I met the new handle-bar, which I 
ordered at the time of the first breakage in Canada, and it stood by me to the 
end, without further accident. The old bar I gave to a local wheelman who 
befriended me, and who said he would religiously preserve it as a relic of 
" the first American tour of a thousand miles straightaway," — ^for I completed 
that distance at four o'clock in the afternoon of the day when the old bar 
(whose entire record was 6,798 miles) served for the last time as my tiller. 
The town of Staunton, in Virginia, where my monumental ride was com- 
pleted, on the 22d of November, marks the end of the macadamized roadway 
which stretches through the Shenandoah Valley, and is continuously ridable 
from Greencastle, the border town of Pennsylvania, a distance of 1 50 miles. 
As a muddy clay of indescribable tenacity was prohibitory of progress beyond 
Staunton, I abandoned all idea of pushing on to the Natural Bridge, and de- 
cided to wheel back down the valley, and so home to New York. But the 
bulge in the rim, resulting from the accident with the mules, was sufifidently 
pronounced to give mc a definite jolt at each revolution of the wheel during 
the 463 miles subsequently traversed in reaching the goal ; and I thought that, 
before beginning the return journey, I might perhaps remedy the matter a 
little by " tightening up the spokes." It was my first experience of the sort, 
and it proved quite effectual, — ^though not in the manner intended. When I 
had completed the tightening process, I found the rim was so badly twisted 
that it would not revolve in the fork at all ; and my later efforts to " un- 
buckle " it were quite in vain, though I snapped another spoke in making 

" Number 234 " was thus at last entirely disabled, — having survived the at- 
tack of the mules only to fall a victim to my own mechanical awkwardness. A 
man from a carriage shop, who was recommended to me as the most skilful 
mechanic in town, said he would not even undertake the task of straightening 
the wheel for less than five dollars, and that he would not agree to finish the 
task for any possible sum. I knew indeed that no one outside of Hartford 
would have the patience to really put it to rights again, and I am told that the 
expert machinist who there did in fact take it in charge had a sad and solemn 
time in bringing it once more into ridable shape. I drove it from Hartford 
to New York in the early part of December, and, at the close of the month, 
rode a hundred miles, on the snow and ice, in the region around Springfield, 
without having a fall. I expected then to do no more touring with it, but to 
run off the few remaining miles needed for a " record " in short spins of an 
hour or two at a time ; yet when next I set eyes on the wheel, on the 6th 
of March, it was in the hold of a steamer starting on a 700-mile voyage for 
Bermuda. Before I had been there twenty-four hours, the sudden turning of 
a team in front of me forced me to make a quick backward dismount, and 
then fall forward with my full weight on the fallen machine. The result of 
this was such a severe bend or crack in the right end of the axle that a com- 
pensating bend had to be made in the crank before the wheel would revolve. 

COLUMBIA, NO. 234. 47 

On the following day the little tire worked loose, for the first time in its his- 
tory ; and, for the first time in my experience, I made use of cement in re-set- 
ting it. I was obliged to ride ten miles before reaching the cement, however, 
and as the tire had been literally worn to shreds, and as my supply of string 
was rather limited, the tattered india-rubber would occasionally bulge out 
from the rim far enough to strike the fork, and thus call my attention to its 
sad condition. In the large tire, also, an indentation, at the point where the 
two ends had been worn away, caused a definite jar at each revolution of the 
wheel during its last 600 miles. The tires were both applied in August, 1880, 
and made a total record of 8»6oo miles. The splice in the little one never 
gave any signs of coming apart ; whereas the ends of the big tire had to be 
many times sewed together and glued down, until quite a deep indentation 
was made. Cement was applied on several occasions when general repairs 
were in progress ; but, with the one exception noted, neither of the tires ever 
gave me any trouble by working loose on the road, or forced me to personally ■ 
apply the cement. The little one was finally worn down nearly to the rim. 

The coned pedals which I pushed for the first 1,480 miles, in 1879-80, 
were brought into service again for my straightaway tour of 1,422 miles and 
the subsequent ride from Hartford to New York ; after which I presented 
them to Mr. Canary, the professional trick-rider, as a " long-distance " me- 
mento. The exactly similar pedals which I used on ** the last day," and so 
left attached to the machine, therefore have a record of 7,062 miles. I 
have been told by an authority on such matters that one of the most notable 
things in the history of " Number 234 " is the fact that such great distances 
were traversed without any breakage of pedal-pins; and, considering the 
rough usage and great strains which they endured, it does appear to me rather 
remarkable. 0!d age did not seem to impair the accuracy of my Pope cyclom- 
eter, for, in riding to Coney Island, on the 24th of March, when I crossed the 
Brooklyn Bridge for the first time, I tested it at each of the ten half-mile 
stones on the Boulevard, and found it did not vary more than a sixteenth of 
a mile for the whole distance. 

It had been my intention that, when its 10,000 miles were finished, the 
old machine should be " rebuilt," with the latest improvements. I designed 
to have new bearings, cranks, pedals, tires, axle, fork, brake, saddle, handle- 
bar, and handles, — the original rims and wires of 1879 and the backbone, 
head and spring of 1883 being retained as a basis for the ** reconstruction." 
When, however, the rim in whose rigidity my long experience had given me 
entire confidence, was spoiled by the runaway mules, I submitted to destiny 
and decided to accept a new machine. The Expert Columbia bicycle, on the 
left side o£ whose fork may be seen the inscription " Number 234, Jr.," is a 
close copy of the old original, as regards size and finish ; but the makers 
assure me that it will be happily different from it in having much less " his- 
tory" for me to record. My experience, in having thoroughly worn out a 
bicycle of the earlier pattern, will at all events qualify me to appreciate the 



'* improvements ^ that have come into vogue during recent years, and to in- 
telligently compare the new with the old, — in regard to durability as well as 
in regard to personal comfort. I trust, too, that the new Forty-Six may have 
the power of the old one for inspiring my friend, the Small Boy, to enliven its 
pathway with outbursts of wit and humor. Had I elected to ride a 52-incher, 
I never more could hope to hear myself designated as " the big man on the lit- 
tle bicycle." On the morning of my very last day with " Number 234 " — ^when 
I heard the children cry : " Oh, see the little bicycle I It's a new one ! All 
silver I" — I felt amply repaid for my years of industrious polishing on the 
nickel plate. But the most amusing comment was reserved for the afternoon. 
Within a half-mile of the place where I made my final dismount, the happy 
captor of " the first snake of spring '' ceased for an instant to pull the cord 
which was dragging the wriggling reptile along the walk ; and then he shouted 
after me : " There goes a greenhorn I " And that was the very last word. 

Addendum, April 14, 1885. — Pilgrims to the metropolis, who may cr«ve the privflege of 
humbly laying their wreaths of laurel and holm-oak upon the venerated head of the subject of 
this chapter, will find " Number 234 " standing in state, in the show-window of the Pope 
Manufacturing Company's city office and salesroom, at No. 12 Warren st. This is a few rods 
west of Broadway, opposite the little park which contains the City Hall and the Court House ; 
and the central position of the park may be still further impressed upon the stranger's mind by 
the fact that the stately Post Office Building forms its southern boundary, while the entrance to 
the great Brooklyn Bridge is upon its eastern side. At the doorway of the salesroom, surmount- 
ing a heap of immortelles (to which are attached the visiting-cards of America's greatest warriors, 
statesmen and poets), the explorer will observe a placard, bearing the following legend : 

"* Columbia, No. 234.' This machine, which was mounted for the first time by Kari 
Kron, on the 29th of May, 1879, h^ l^^o driven by him a distance of 10,082 miles, as measured 
by Pope cyclometer, his final ride having been taken on the 14th of April, 1S84. In making 
this record, upwards of 5,000 distinct miles of American roadway have been traversed, including 
1,100 miles in the British Possessions. Exact descriptions of these roads will be published in 
' Ten Thousand Miles on a Bicycle.' The record of miles for each of the five years was as fol- 
lows : 1879, fi"^* y«"> 74* miles; 1880, second year, 1,474 miles ; 1881, third year, 1,956 miles; 
1882, fourth year, 2,002 miles; 1883, fifth year, 3,534 miles. During the final twelve months, 
ending with the 14th of April, 1884, the record was 3,840 miles. On the ixth of October, 1883, 
when the machine had a total record of 8,228 miles, it made a day's record of 100 miles straighta- 
way through Canada, and on the day after its 10,000 miles' record was completed, it was ridden 
from Stamford to Cheshire, Conn. (55 miles of hilly and sandy roads), within a period of twelve 
hours. The present tires were applied to the rims in August, 1880, and have traversed 
8,6oS miles in 23 different States and Provinces, without once coming loose while on the road. 
Between the 8th of October and the aad of November, 1883 (embracing 36 days of actual riding, 
during the first 14 of which 635 miles were traversed in Canada, ending at Ogdensburg), this 
bicycle was driven from Detroit, Mich., to Staunton, Va., making a continuoiu straightaway 
trail of 1,400 miles, equivalent to one-eighteenth of the entire circumference of the globe. This 
IS by far the longest continuous trail yet reported of a bicycle in any part of the worid, and the 
tires which made it had traversed 6,600 miles before beginning the journey." 

At the very time when the above statement was put in type, however, the tires of another 
Columbia bicycle were tracing upon the surface of this continent another straightaway trail, 
nearly three times as long, connecting the Pacific ocean with the Atlantic. Between April 22 
and August 4, 1884, Thomas Stevens pushed his wheel every rod of the way from San Francisco 
to Boston, estimating the length of his route (for he carried no cyclometer) as 3,700 miles. 


MY 234 RIDES ON "NO. 234."* 

This magazine for February contained a chronological report of my 
travels during " Four Seasons on a Forty-Six," and the March issue gave a 
minate description of the manner in which this "Columbia No. 234" had 
stood the strain thus put upon it in being pushed upwards of 6,000 m. 
through fifteen different States. It remains for the present article to finish 
the story, by making exhibition of my various rides and riding experiences, so 
classed together according to character as to be most significant and instruct- 
ive, and also by offering such facts about my personal physique and habits 
of life as may be deemed helpful to a proper understanding of the record. 
By way of introductory peace-offering, I may venture to bring out this modest 
little triolet, snatched from under the snows, where it had naturally suffered a 
stiffening of its component parts : — 

Though my rides on " Two-Thirty-Four " 

Are by no means monumental, 
Please again hear some more 
Of my rides, just two-thirty-four ; 
Please don't say, "What a bore! 

We care not a continental 
For your rides on * Two-Thirty-Four,* — 

They're by no means monumental ! " 

When I finished my wheeling for 1882, on the evening of Saturday, De- 
cember JO, — ^with a record of 46 m., for the day, 2,002 m., for the year, and 
6,175 ra., for the four years, — I found that the number of days on which I had 
mounted the wheel was '*two hundred and thirty-four," though I never 
noticed the coincidence until I came to need a title for the present article. 
On 40 of these days I rode between 30 and 40 m., on 27 I rode between 40 
and 50 m., on 14 I rode between 50 and 60 m., and five times I exceeded the 
latter distance, — my longest day*s ride being 73 m. If I exclude the rec- 
ord of my first season (742 m., distributed among 47 days, on only four of 
which did my riding amount to as much as 30 m.), it will be seen that my rec- 
ord during the three years, 188062, shows 5,433 m., on 187 days, or an aver- 
age ride of just 29 m. On 92 of these da3rs, or about half of all, I have 
ridden 30 m. or more, as above specified ; on 40 of the remainder I have rid- 
den between 30 and 20 m. ; on 36 I have ridden between 20 and 10 m. ; and on 
the remaining 19 days my record has been less than that, including seven 

iFrom The WhetlmoH, April, 1883, pp. 56-66. 



days on which it was less than five miles, — the shortest record of all being a 
mile and a quarter. 

My first definite attempt at a long ride was made on the 4th of May, 18S0, 
when the weather chanced to be extremely hot. I wheeled 22 m. to Tarry- 
town in six hours, — ending a half-hour after mid-day, — and z\ m. back again 
in four hours and a half, ending at 7.30 o'clock ; after which I tried the Boule- 
vard until 9, in order to bring my day's record up to soj m. 1 did not better 
this until the 17th of September following, on the morning of which day, at 
7 o'clock, I mounted at a farm-house, 16 m. west of Buffalo, and rode two 
hours and a quarter (15 m.), to Silver Creek, where I stopped an hour for 
breakfast; then 12m. more (two hours) to Fredonia, where I stopped two 
hours for dinner ; at Westfield, 1 5 m. further, I halted half an hour, till 5 
o'clock ; then rode another 1 5 m. in another two hours, to North East, making 
from the start a trifle more than 57 m. in a trifle more than twelve hours, 
whereof four hours had been given to rests. As my baggage was at the Reed 
House, in Erie, about 16 m. further on, and as the road was said to continue 
smooth and level, and the moon promised occasionally to shine, I rode or 
walked that additional distance between 8 and 11.30 p. m., and so made a rec- 
ord of 73 m., which has remained my " best " ever since. Had the wind been 
with me rather than against me during the twelve hours of daylight, I am 
confident I should have covered the whole distance in that time, even with a 
third of the interval spent in repose ; and I think, under similarly favorable 
conditions, I could ride 100 m. straightaway by daylight on that track, if I 
really exerted myself to do so. Though I had but four hours' sleep that 
night, I felt sufficiently fresh next day to ride 45 m. further to Ashtabula, be- 
tween 9.30 A. M. and 8 p. m., making 118 m. within 37 hours; and only once 
since then have I made a better record for two days, and that only a mile 
better. On the previous day I had ridden from Niagara (38 m.), so that m 
three days I made a straight push of 156 m. through the territory of three 
different States. 

The nearest approach since made to this was my ride of 1 54 m. through 
Massachusetts, on the first three days of June, 188 1, after having ridden 
133 m. on the last four days of May, and penetrated the borders of New 
Hampshire and Maine. This was the first case of my tnounting the wheel for 
seven successive days, and the record of 287 m. (whereof 1 19 m. belonged to 
the final 37 hours) still remains my best for that period. My next continuous 
week of riding was just a year later, and amounted to 251 m., whereof 75 m. 
were run off in Chicago, on the last three days of May, and the remaining 
177 m. in a straight push among the hills of Kentucky, on the first four days 
of June. My third ride of a week, as described in the January issue of this 
magazine, was made continuously on the soil of New York, from Syracuse to 
Waverly, beginning September 28, and covering 280 m, though, as it begun 
and ended at noon, there were parts of eight calendar dAf& devoted to it. 
Next to these records must be ranked my six days' ride of 204 m., — ^up the 

MV 234 RIDES ON ''NO. 234." 51 

Connecticut valley, across to Lake George, and down the Hudson valley to 
Hudson, — August 22-27, 1S81 ; and my six days* ride of 203 m. ''along the 
Potomac," October 22-27, 1881. There were no essential repetitions made 
in either of the last-named tours; but the railroad had to be resorted to in 
both cases, so that the tracks were neither of them absolutely continuous 
ones. Indeed, the longest uninterrupted path I have traversed over was that 
connecting Syracuse with Waverly, for my wheel rolled over every foot of the 
distance, and all the repetitions indulged in could not have much exceeded a 
dozen miles. Here, too, I may be allowed the parenthetical remark that I 
should be glad to see the long-distance club-riding of 1883 assume the phase 
of rivalry in respect to length of straightaway tracks covered, or at least in 
respect to length of roundabout tracks, which admit of no second usage. Let 
the ambitious long-distance club-men cease their vain repetitions over short 
circuits and well-known stretches, and henceforth strive rather to show how 
great a stretch of actual country they can push themselves across, in a single 
definite direction, within the limits of a single calendar day 1 

The third and last time in 1880, when I rode as much as 50 m. in a day, 
was on the 24th of September, when I finished my tour of 495 m. by wheeling 
across the hills of New Jersey, from Stanhope to Washington Square, 53J m. 
There were seven other days in that year on which I rode upwards of 40 m. 
and nineteen days in 1881 whereof the same can be said. The ten of these 
which had a record of 50 m. or more were as follows : March 5, on the 
asphalt of Washington, with the right end of the handle-bar broken off, 7 a. 
M. to 10 p. M., 66i m. ; April 30, Orange, Newark, and New York, 9 a. m. to 
8 P. M., 50J m. ; June 2, Boston, Cambridge, Lexington, Waltham, Framing- 
ham, and Northboro, 9 A. M. to 8 p. M., 54! m. ; June 3, Northboro, Worces- 
ter, Ware, and West Springfield, 5.35 a. m. to 9.45 p. m., 64i m. ; August 22, 
West Springfield, Greenfield, Brattleboro, and Putney, 7 a. m. to 7.10 p. M., 
52I m. ; August 26, Fort Edward, Albany, and Schodac, 5.35 A. M. to 7.55 p. 
M., 57ini.; September 7, Sayville, Hicksville, Flushing, and New York, 
52jni.; October 23, Frederick, Williamsport, and Lock No. 59 on Chesa- 
peake and Ohio Canal, 6.45 A. M. to 5.35 p. m., 54 m. ; October 26, Point of 
Rocks and Washington, 6 a. m. to 9 p, m., $o\ m. ; December 21, Orange, 
Newark, and Washington Square, 10.30 a. m. to 9 p. m., 60} m. In 1882 there 
were 17 days in which my record exceeded 40 m., and the half-dozen of these 
in which it reached the 50 m. limit were as folloM's : May 26, New York, 
Tarrytown, Nyack, Englewood, and Jersey City, 8 A. M. to 9 P. M., 51m.; 
June 2, Sadieville, Georgetown, Lexington, and Harrodsburg (Ky.), 11 A. M. 
to 11.20 P. M., 6ilm. J June 7, Louisville and Frankfort, 10.30 A. M. to 9 P. M., 
52i m.; November 4, Orange, Newark, and New York, 9 a. m. to 7 p. m., 
50m. ; November 7, New York to Tarrytown and back, 51 Jm. ; November 21, 
New York and Bridgeport, 7.40 a. m. to 7.20 p. m., 55! m. 

It was at the beginning of my second season, when my forty-ninth day's 
ride had given me a record of 775 m., that I first ventured to try any coasting. 


'wth my Ie<fs on th k 

occasions for more' ^f^^'"' '"^ ^ ""'P' ""■» "^^i* my hands wad, 
w>«n I first acquired thrtn,! T""" »f"™"<l». »' ""til Angast,,** 
t-on of the bar. fust f„, °* ProP"-ly placing them on the inside « 

accomplished quite a feat • T *""° "** '^^ '"* "»»«' I l™^' 

to 96th St, through Fifth r "'•"''"8 *'"»out stop from Washington Sqmc 

"''th Belgian blocks I h,. """'' *' '^' *'« ™"~ of wWch are |>»«1 

thing like as g«at a distanl "*T ''"* """'*<• °»" *e stones" forMr- 

the Square, down Broadwav ff .r^ continuously, though I once went &<» 

■nounts in the two miles r* u °" ^"^' ""''"■"«• P^'haps. a doie» dis- 

whole length of Manhatt'an r^" ?"" "'""" ""= "'^^'t "^ P«Jaling through the 

the saddle was at Orange o^t"" ,'" ""' '"'"^^^^ My fet "long sJy" » 

'T and needless dismount fl^^''^' '^' '"'«"' "«Pt for one moL.- 

hour, and accomplished lh7™« "^^"*^ °*«'"="' ' "t'Pt agoing j« x, 

thirteen miles on the BouT/v^r ^ ?" "*' ^'^ °^ August fo«oi4ldid 

«°P a quarter of an hoJ^S-tth T \°" '"'' » ''^'^' •"»■"•"« °°« »«<"« 

f»'f- Five days later. i„ ^^J^'^'"' .'"'"' the record was ten miles a«d a 

I rode twelve miles without stoT''^'°"' *'«^" "'« ~ads we« rather moddr. 

fh/M;"'"""'""""", caS^dZ rK*","""" *"'' three^uarters. and. ^ 

^hould have done the ^teZtlt .' "^"""^ "P "' » -''«<>" 'n the Z, 

real^ notable "stay" i„ ^l^t^^^^J^ ">««« «»'de of two horns. My first 

;^">ber ,6. „hen. " mounting at^f' 7u'"' *« '"=«'« » ">°"th laterf Se^ 

°; N-agara, I went southw^d L ^ ""' ''"''«'' '" the outskirts of the vfllage 

^vmg the wind against mTalT;:"' '"°'' '"'' '^™- '" ^° "-" and a 5 

ram durmg the third half.ho„r uJ7iT^ 'f''^ '''^""y ^P-^^d -U 

a ^s™ ""'«'" '«''. beyond wl i*" '°"' '" "^ '^T hard dav, which 

a dismount, there is a long but no? '^'^ where the bridge almos't caused 

m^rtance between Nia^^'^l^";;;^''; ''"=?' """' '"'-'' » '"« -^J ^ << 

Si '''""' ''"•^«« "ith difficultvf H ""^ "«•" ''"'' "«« to the left, 

the left »K. """8 the bridge and T . ^ ^^"""^ *° the road for a 
«°P for tr;"' '!'' '° '"e Linco^ ^i^l T'" "'"" '''^ «"* 'treet to 

^- Ni^:.» "'^ ' "^^ «"« furthe:';;:^^ Bi^tHart °" rr 

, .My next -long stay ..„ »'° C.ty Hall, twenty m,le, 


— c condi.ons similarly V-kbr/tSd t:;^ /"^ 

MY 234 RIDES ON ''NO. 234." 53 

for three hours and a quarter, and made a record of 29 m., to which I added 
16 m. more before sundown. 

My first ride, without dismount, from New York to Yonkers (13 m.) was 
made May 10, 1882, in an hour and forty minutes. My stop then was caused 
by the steep pitch of a few rods at the foot of the hill which begins beyond the 
Getty House and ascends for more than a mile in the direction of Tarrytown, 
and those few rods have long been notorious for their power in humbling the 
pride of northward-bound riders from the metropolis. On the 7th of Novem- 
ber following, however, I managed for the first time to array myself with the 
noble band who can boast of having overcome this chief obstacle on the hilly 
Tarrytown track, and then I crawled up the long grades beyond without a balk, 
though I was tremendously tired when I got to the point where I could coast 
down the other side. I had ridden 22 m., with several dismounts, when I 
stopped for dinner at the hotel in Tarrytown ; but, as the track had proved 
smoother than I ever knew it to be before, and as the breeze rather favored a 
returning rider, I decided to attempt the exploit of wheeling back to 59th st. 
without a stop. Somewhat to my surprise I succeeded in so doing, between 
2u(5 and 5.50 P. M., and then, though my ambition was accomplished, and the 
rain-drops were drizzling down through the darkness, it occurred to me that I 
had best stick to the sjiddle a while longer, and so " beat my record," made 
five days before, as already described. It was 6.38 P. m., therefore, when I 
finally dismounted at 155th st., where I had started at 9.20 a. m., and the 
cyclometer said that this " longest straight ride of my life " measured 29J m., 
though I had kept the saddle thirty-seven minutes longer than on the previous 
Thursday, when it gave the record as 29 m. In the four-column account of 
Ihb " Tarrytown triumph," which I printed in The Wfuel of November 15, I 
offered some reasons for believing that the real distance of this " longest ride " 
was 31 or 32 m. Fifty-ninth st., where I turned back on my course, was six 
miles from where I finished, and my " straightaway " track from Tarrytown was 
therefore 25 or 26 m. long. I should be interested in hearing of other wheel- 
men who have gone a similar distance straight through the country without 
leaving their saddles. 

My riding is, most of it, so solitary that I do not know whether the long 
stay in the saddle I have just described would be accounted very creditable 
by those who are acquainted with the track gone over ; and no comments on 
my detailed report in The Wheel have appeared for my enlightenment. But as 
it is, of all my bicycling experiences, the only thing at all approaching the 
character of an exploit that I ever definitely set myself to accomplish, I have 
felt enough pride in my success to venture upon a full description of it, espe- 
cially as I have no intention of ever again riding continuously for four mortal 
hours. I do not mean by this that I suffered any particular inconvenience 
from the test, for I got through an average amount of routine literary work 
next day, and on the day after that I refreshed myself by 31 m. more of 
wheeling. I mean, simply, that I generally prefer to take to the bicycle " for 


the fun of it," rather than for the sake of " seeing what I can do," and that 
one achievement of this sort is quite enough for my ambition. There is so 
much more comfort in frequent dismounts, if for no other reason than to 
gratify thirst, that I lack all desire for further *' triumphs ** of such nature 
that the pursuit of them brings into painful prominence before the mind the 
justice of the celebrated remark of the Governor of North Carolina to the 
Governor of South Carolina. 

The severest test ever given my physique by bicycling, however, was not 
by that four hours' steady push, on the 7th of last November, but rather by 
an all-day jaunt on the 7th of September, 1881, — a date memorable in 
atmospheric annals as " the hottest on record for seven years," all along the 
Atlantic slope. " In many places the thermometer marked 100° in the shade 
for several hours, and, as I rode in the sun, I must have been exposed to a 
heat of no** to 125** from 9 a. m. to 3 or 4 P. M. Between 6.07 A. m., when I 
mounted at Sayville, and 7.05 p. m ., when I plunged my burning head into 
the public fountain at Flushing, the cyclometer recorded 50^ m., and two 
more miles were added between the ferry and Washington Square. The ride 
was the only one of my experience in which the motion through the atmos- 
phere had no cooling effect. The air itself, as it struck against one's cheeks, 
seemed blazing hot, as if literally it had come from a. furnace. I should be 
afraid to estimate the amount of water and other liquids which I absorbed 
that day. I drank at every possible drinking-place, and I dashed cold water 
on my fiery face as often as the chance was offered me. At Flushing, while 
waiting for the homeward train, I refreshed myself with ice-cream, soda- 
water, melons, peaches, and other such things, which the average idiot, who 
disbelieves in the wisdom of obeying Nature's demands, declares to be deadly 
indulgences for a man who is unendurably hot." Perhaps I myself seem a 
rather worse idiot than the average for venturing to get my anatomy into 
such a heated condition ; but it endured the test without any excessive dis- 
comfort, and without any subsequent ill effects. I shouldn't deliberately have 
chosen so hot a day for a spin through Long Island; but, as I was headed for 
home, I wanted to " get there," and, though the heat seemed extraordinary, I 
didn't realize until I read the next day's papers that it was " the greatest heat 
on record in seven years," and that I had, therefore, accomplished a somewhat 
dangerous and foolhardy feat in pushing 50 m. through the hottest of it. 

I have not had many serious tumbles since the great original elbow- 
breaking act of Thursday, May 29, 1879. The only time I have been inten- 
tionally upset was in November of that year, while touring from New Haven 
to New York, when a bold, bad boy at Port Chester suddenly lifted up my 
rear wheel and sent me sprawling into the dirt, without a shadow of a warning. 
Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of the fall which made it absolutely pain- 
less; and I have charity enough to believe that the graceless youth designed 
rather to make the wheel give me a good jolting than to really spill me off. 
Once, on the Boulevard, when a crowd of small school-boys were running 

MY 234 RIDES ON " NO. 234." 55 

around about me, with the customary yells and outcries, my wheel knocked 
one of them down and pitched me simultaneously into the dust It chanced 
that he was intent in a game of " tag " with another boy, and so, being uncon- 
scious of the approaching wheel, which the rest of the crowd were watching, 
he suddenly jumped in front of it, with the result indicated. He assured me, 
though, as soon as he brushed away the tears of surprise with his dusty 
sleeve, that he " wasn't at all hurt "; and, as I could say the same for myself, 
I jogged on. I think this was the only time when my wheel ever came in 
collision with any living creature ; though once, at Newark, some wretched 
brutes persuaded a boy who was really an imbecile to stand in my path in 
order to be knocked down. Boys not bereft of their wits, of course, often do so 
stand, and then jump aside at the last practicable moment ; but in the case 
mentioned I fortunately noticed the vacant look in the child's face, and so 
turned out for him. On the sidewalk at Niagara, one evening, a quick dis- 
mount alone saved my touching a little girl, who suddenly sprang out of a 
door-way, and who was a good deal scared at her narrow escape. I was rid- 
ing quite slowly, however ; and I have done a great deal of careful wheeling, 
on sidewalks thronged with pedestrians, without ever once coming to grief. 
I never yet used bell or whistle ; as the human voice seems to me to be a 
a more effective, as well as a more civil, instrument for giving warning. 

On May Day, 1880, a bad tumble and bent crank suitably rewarded my 
vain attempts to raise my hat gracefully to a noble brakeman, who shouted at 
me from a passing railroad train ; and within an hour afterwards, when 1 
essayed to cross a few inches of water which seemed to have a hard bed 
beneath it, my wheel performed the great stand-still act, and rested firmly 
upon its head, leaving me resting firmly upon my feet. A similarly curious 
stoppage occurred down in Kentucky, last June, when I was toiling slowly 
up-hill in the dark, and encountered a loose lump of the newly-laid macadam : 
my machine keeled over and stood quietly on its head, leaving me upright 
on my feet in front. That, I believe, was the only spill I had in my entire 
tour of 340 m.; and in my 500 m. ride of 1880 I was thrown but once. This 
happened at Westlield, when, in attempting to make too short a turn from the 
hard roadway into the softer sidewalk, and not giving allowance for the swift- 
ness with which the wind was blowing me along, I was obliged either to let 
my wheel slam squarely against an iron fence, or to send it sprawling side- 
wise into the sand. The result of accepting the latter alternative was the 
scraping of a few square inches of skin from my knee, elbow, and hand, but 
no serious disablement to myself or my vehicle. ' In my 400 m. tour of last Sep- 
tember I made no involuntary dismounts without landing on my feet (though 
the wheel itself had a few falls), and I am almost sure that the same could 
be said of the 800 m. afterwards ridden over before the close of the year, 
though I had one side-fall in trying to mount a Harlem curbstone in the dark. 
On the other hand, during the first of my " six days along the Potomac " I had 
two headers within the space of an hour, — one in going up hill, the other in 


going down, — and early on the final day I sprained my ankle by stepping sud- 
denly down on a loose stone. . That accident came nearer disabling me than 
any other I have had ; but, after a few hours of increasing pain, the soreness 
at last wore off. On the second day, too, by the loosening of its step* my 
bicycle came nearer being disabled than at any other time ; for it must be re- 
membered that, spite of all the wearing out of its parts, or the accidents which 
have happened to them at various times, old " Number 234 " has never once 
betrayed me by breaking down in regions remote from possible repairs, or 
becoming unridable at such seasons as would render its disablement a serious 
interference with my plans. On the same unlucky day last mentioned, how- 
ever, I let it drop into the water, while trying to convey it and myself along the 
slippery log which spanned the ** waste-way " of the canal, thereby thoroughly 
soaking the roll of clothing attached to the handle-bar. 

On May Day, 1882, while coasting down the hill at Bloomfield, in the early 
twilight, at a speed of six or seven miles an hour, a stone the size of a brick 
caused the front wheel to stop and the rear wheel to describe a circuit in the 
air, while I myself gave a great jump ahead and landed on my feet, without 
even a tendency to fall forwards. My theoretical belief, that a man who is 
forced off the saddle involuntarily is likely to suffer the least detriment if he 
has his legs thrown over the handles, was thus happily confirmed. Once 
since then I have been thrown to the ground while coasting, as a result of 
carelessness, in allowing my boot to catch in the spokes. The only involun- 
tary dismounts for which the machine itself has been to blame have been 
caused by the sudden stoppage of the rear wheel, for lack of sufficient oil on 
the cones. The cones of my right pedal stuck once, in June, 1880, when 
my record was 950 m. ; but I was not thrown off, and the accident has not 
been repeated. I never yet caused a stoppage, or even an approach to one, 
by too sharp an application of the brake to the front wheel ; and I cannot 
understand why a reasonably careful rider should ever come to grief in that 
way. I have sometimes been run away with in descending steep hills, and 
have felt that my rear wheel was in the air, and have feared that my involun- 
tary experience as a ** unicycler " was about to come to a disastrous, if not 
fatal, termination ; but as a matter of fact I have never been thrown in any 
such critical times, and almost all my tumbles have happened when I have 
been moving rather slowly over sections of road whose difficulties and dangers 
were quite apparent to me. I have never had a fall in the night-time, though 
I should say, at a guess, that I may have ridden from 300 to 400 m. in the dark- 
ness, and without a lantern. Another guess which I venture to offer with 
more confidence is, that though during my first 1,000 m. I may have had as many 
as 20 or 25 falls, I have not by any means approached that number in the 
5,000 m. since traversed. The fact is, I can't afford to take the chances of 
further tumbling; so, in cases of doubt, I almost always stop. 

As regards other perils of the road, I may say that before I had covered 
1 50 m., and before my cyclometer had been three days on its axle, I was 

Afy 234 RIDES ON ''NO, 234." 57 

attacked, while bending over to read it, by three drunken men, who drove 
dose by me in a carriage, and one of whom gave me a vicious cut with the 
whip, which my straw hat chanced to ward off, but which might easily have 
put out an eye, or caused other lasting disfigurement. Once or twice, too, 
drunken drivers have attempted to run me down from behind, though never 
▼ery persistently, nor with near approximation to success. On a few occa- 
sions, also, drivers have wantonly forced a dismount by refusing to yield an 
inch of the track in approaching, — the most exasperating instance which I 
recall being that of the ruffian who directed one of the four-horse cpaches of 
a hotel at Lake George. On Staten Island, last September, I got a tumble 
in trying to curve too sharply around a wagon, just ahead, whose driver 
" slowed up " suddenly, though not maliciously. I never yet caused a run- 
away, and my most serious troubles with horses were in the cases of two 
sedate old " plugs," one in Connecticut and one in Western New York, 
which were driven by women, who persisted in " hauling them in," until, in 
the former case, a wheel was cramped off, and in the latter the vehicle was 
made to describe one or two complete backward revolutions, but without 
hurting anything. I never met but two horses that seemed thoroughly fright- 
ened at the bicycle, though it is, perhaps, not unreasonable to assume that 
" Number 234 " has encountered as many as half a million of t^em. Both of 
these were fancy nags, — one in Ohio, the other at Ticonderoga, — whose 
drivers, being possessed with a vain pride in their ability to control them,* 
ordered me to "come on," without dismounting. Had I done so there would 
surely have been two wrecked " trotting sulkies " and two dead or demoral- 
ized horse-jockeys "laid out" on those two occasions. After causing the first 
pair of mules which I faced on the Erie Canal to wheel about and kick their 
driver down a thirty-foot embankment, I took no further chances of that sort 
on the tow-path ; and I likewise generally dismounted before the horseback 
riders in Kentucky, whose half-broken steeds seemed only too glad of a 
chance to shy at any moving object whatever. 

Flaving had two or three india-rubber drinking-cups shaken from my 
pockets, I now content myself with a short piece of india-rubber tubing, 
which costs less, stays by me more faithfully, and furnishes an easier means 
of drinking from the wayside rivulets. The chief advantage in carrying a cup,, 
indeed, is to supply the usual lack of such an article in the bed-rooms of 
country hotels. Still another " peril of the road," which my experience may 
give warning of, is the smashing of the glass face of the cyclometer by the 
slipping of a wrench from the hands of a clumsy blacksmith. I have had an 
oil-can stolen from a Brooklyn bar-room, which I honored for a week with the 
presence of my wheel, and a monkey-wrench stolen from a similar resort in 
Harlem, under similar conditions. Another beer-seller of Brooklyn said he 
was on the point of selling my machine, because, as I failed to return on the 
exact day specified, he concluded that I meant to abandon it to him ; and that 
he was only waiting for an advance on the first offer that had been made him 


of $50. Nobly contrasted with this seems the conduct of the honest boy who 
sold soda-water at Farmingdale, on Long Island, and who, when I inadvert- 
ently left on his counter a purse containing $15, harnessed his horse to pur- 
sue me and restore the property. 

My response to the stereotyped question of the average spectator, " How^ 
fast can you go on that thing ? " has always been : " I don't know, because I 
never tried." The only time when I was on a regularly measured course 
was September 14, 1880, when I had a friend hold a watch for me while I 
went twice, without stop, around the half-mile trotting-track at Canandaigua, 
making the first half in 2m. 20s., and the second half in 2m. 15s. From this 
I infer that, on a good track, I might, by exerting myself, make a mile inside 
of four minutes ; but I hardly suppose that I ever shall in fact make any 
such exertion, or insure any such brilliant " record." Six days after the date 
last named, I rode from Erie to Dunkirk, 47 m., under very favorable condi- 
tions of wind and weather, in seven hours and a half, including rests of two 
hours. I was stopped by the hill at Westfield, at 2.30 p. M., that day, after 
riding exactly an hour, at the middle of which I had made a minute's stop on 
account of a horse. The record of that hour was eleven miles and an eighth, 
of which six miles belonged to the last half. I think I had no swifter day on 
my record until December 21, 1881, when I rode just 50 m. in the seven 
hours ending at 5 p. m., and when I estimated my actual riding time as hardly 
more than five hours. That track, however, was in the region of Orange, and 
included many repetitions, instead of extending " straight through the coun- 
try." I added ten miles to it before stopping for the night, and the year. I 
believe that the swiftest short spin of my experience, however, was that 
recorded on the last day of my Kentucky tour, seven miles in twenty-six min- 
utes, ending with a famous coast of a mile down an open winding road. 

Almost all of ,my 340 m. within the limits of that State were either on 
an up-grade or a down-grade ; and I did some hill-climbing that really sur- 
prised me, though none that I think quite as creditable as my November ex- 
ploit at Yonkers. The big hill at Milton Lower Falls, which Boston riders 
know so well, has been ridden up by me both ways. On the 28th of October 
last I rode without stop from the cross-roads beyond Caldwell to the end of 
the smooth pavement of Bloomfield avenue, in Newark, nine miles and a half, 
in just an hour, — ^that being the first occasion on which I had succeeded in 
conquering the big hill at Caldwell, though I had more than once ridden all 
the grades leading ./<? Caldwell,— and I look on that as one of my most credit- 
able mounts. I recall three other occasions on which my prowess as a 
" hillian " greatly surprised me : once, in 1880, in surviving a steep, roughly 
macadamized slope between Newtown and Hunter's Point; once, in 1881, 
when I pushed up the smooth, black surface of the misnamed Sandy Hill at 
Fort Edward ; and again, on the first day of last October, when I ascended 
the sharp grade at Mount Morris, and earned my right to a hearty breakfast 
at the Scoville House on top. I remember, to be sure, that a Fort Edward 

MY 234 RIDES ON " NO. 234." 59 

rider has kindly informed me in print that my puoh up Sandy Hill was 
** nothin' at all to brag on " ; and I presume that other experienced ones may 
say the same of the other little knolls I have alluded to. I will not venture 
to contradict them. All I say is, that when I found myself on the summits in 
question, with " Number 234 " still responding steadily to my tread, I felt 
bound to complacently stroke its head and remark, " Bully for you, old boy I " 
>fy weight has recently kept pretty constantly in the neigl^borhood of 
140 pounds, which, I think, is five pounds more than I ever attained to before 
becoming a bicycler, — the greatest variations in my weight, as observed by me 
during the previous decade, being from 130 to 135 pounds. I am five feet five 
inches in height, and the inside length of my leg is thirty-three inches. While 
visiting a rink at Washington, in March, i88i, I found no difficulty in driving 
a 52-inch Special Columbia, whose pedals had been shortened up toward the 
axle, though I felt decidedly "scarey" when first lifted into such a lofty 
saddle, and the subsequent acts of mounting unassisted were rather tiresome. 
On two previous occasions I had propelled 48-inch and so-inch wheels for 
short distances, say a sixteenth of a mile, but my first road-ride on any other 
machine than " Number 234" was on the afternoon of April 10, 1882, when 
I covered 31 J m., in the region around Springfield and Holyoke, on a new 
48-inch Standard Columbia, which had not previously been ridden as much as 
fifty miles. Five months later, September 8, in the same region, I again rode 
31 1 m. between 9 A. M. and 6.30 P. M. (taking a rest of three hours at mid- 
day) on a 50-inch Expert Columbia, whose pedals were extended to their full 
limit only during the last four miles. Had I allowed these two rides in my 
log, my record of miles ridden up to the close of 1882 would have been 6,238. 
I had no falls while riding either of these " large " machines. I climbed 
the hills which I had long been wont to climb with my 46-inch, and I appar- 
ently found no more difficulty than usual in climbing them. Indeed, I drove 
the 4&-inch up the south slope of the church hill in West Springfield, which 
I have never been able to overcome with " Number 234." I was not def- 
initely convinced that the effort of driving these larger wheels was either 
greater or less than the- effort of driving my smaller one. When, however, I 
pulled off my boots on the evening of the April ride, severe " cramps '* ran 
through the calves of my legs, and I found that, for a few minutes, it was a 
difficult and painful matter to " straighten them out." As I had done no wheel- 
ing whatever for a period of nearly four months, this unpleasant phenomenon 
did not necessarily prove that the 4S-inch was " too large a size for me " ; but 
when I tried the 5o-inch (after a period of six weeks* abstinence from the 
saddle) the same phenomenon was repeated with increased intensity. It was 
with great difficulty that I removed my boots both at noon and night ; even 
during the last hours of riding the crarai>-like pains were present, and, for a 
week afterwards, occasional twinges would go through my legs. 

I felt pretty well convinced by this experience of 30 m. that a day's ride 
of 50 or 60 m. on a 50-inch would be apt to inflict upon me serious suffering, 


if not temporary disablement, and that a week's tour of say 280 m. would be 
cither impossible of accomplishment, or else prove a painful and difficult task, 
instead of an exhilarating pleasure. I am aware that the mere strain of pull- 
ing off one's boots by pressure against the heels may sometimes slightly cramp 
the calves, even when the legs have been in no way strained or tired by 
previous exertion ; and these same twinges of cramp have also come to me 
on certain rare occasions when pushing my 46-inch wheel towards the sum- 
mits of long and wearisome hills. But, at the close of my longest and most 
difficult rides on " Number 234," I never yet had any feeling of cramp or 
muscular stiifness, save of the slightest and most transitory description; 
and hence the fact that both of my two short and easy rides on larger wheels 
brought contrary results cannot be accepted by me as devoid of significance, — 
even when I remember that on each occasion I chanced to be " out of prac- 
tice " as a rider. The general inference which I drew from the experience 
was this : that whatever may be said for large wheels in racing or in riding 
short distances on smooth roads, a wheel small enough to prevent the cords 
and muscles of the legs from ever being stretched to their full tension b the 
one best adapted for ordinary rough-riding and long-distance touring. 

Aside from this direct tendency towards physical discomfort and injury, 
which I think attaches to prolonged use of a wheel so high that its rider is 
forced habitually to "point his toes downward," instead of keeping the en- 
tire sole of his foot flat on a plane parallel to the surface of the ground, there 
are indirect dangers which threaten the tourist who has only a slight grip on 
the pedal. One of these is the danger of falls caused by the feet slipping 
from the pedals, — especially in wet weather, and while climbing hills. Many 
a time when the soles of my boots have been smeared with greasy mud on 
slippery days, I have worked my way up-hill with the pedals of my six-inch 
cranks resting on my insteps ; and, in general, whenever my toe loses hold 
of a pedal, my heel is almost certain to regain the hold. I have ridden many 
miles under conditions which made the pedals so slippery that I doubt if any 
rider who depended upon a " toe-grip " could have kept alongside without a 
tremendous expenditure of energy, and without undergoing continuous tum- 
bles. Then, again, on an all-day ride of 40 or 50 m., through a rough coun- 
try, where frequent dismounts are necessary, it seems to me that the aggre- 
gate increase of effort required in continually climbing into a high saddle 
rather than a low one would be enough to make all the difference between 
relaxation and weariness, — ^between happiness and misery. Still further, the 
ease of mounting which a low step insures is an element of safety in this 
way : it disposes a rider, in cases of doubt about his ability to overcome an 
obstacle, to dismount before it, rather than to plough recklessly ahead and 
take his chances of a tumble. A small machine has the incidental advantage 
of weighing less, and taking up less room, and I have a theory that it is apt 
to be stronger and less liable to injury than a larger one. Mine, certainly, 
has stood the severest strains on its rims without " buckling " or bulging at 

AfV 234 RIDES ON ''NO. 234." 61 

all out of the true. Finally, a small machine seems unusual and distinctive ; 
for, out of the hundreds which took part in the parade at Chicago, " Number 
234 " -was the only one that did not exceed forty-six inches in height 1 

I assume myself to be simply " an Average man " as regards physique. I 
have never made any pretense at being an athlete, — much less have I ever 
thought of entering any kind of athletic competition. The only tests of 
endurance connected with my academy life, — 1862-5, — ^which I now recall as 
having warmed my pride, were these : I once shouldered a regulation army 
musket on a march of six miles with the *' home guard " ; I once skated a 
dozen miles straightaway on the snow-crust ; I once walked 25 m. in a day ; and 
I once split a cord of walnut wood and lugged it in my arms up four flights of 
stairs. During the four following years of my college career I took two or 
three 20 m. walks, swam half a mile on two or three occasions, and became the 
most persistent patron of the bone-shaker in my class during the three months* 
prevalence of the velocipedic furor. In October, 1874, with the assistance of 
a classmate, I rowed a lap-streak boat from Springfield down the Connecticut 
River and around the Sound to New Haven, in three days, — the distance be- 
ing estimated at from 125 to 140 m., — ^and the exertion cost me nothing more 
than a temporary soreness and stiffness, though my companion suffered seri- 
ous detriment. On the 23d of June, 1875, ^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^ ^^"^ among the 
White Mountains, I went on foot from the Flume to Littleton, a distance of 1 5 
or 16 m., whereof I ran the last five or six under a blazing sun, " in order to 
catch the three-o'clock train," whose approaching whistle inspired me to put 
in a tremendous spurt on the last half-mile. That was my first and only " long- 
distance race " against a locomotive engine ; but I won. Though born and 
brought up on a farm, where horses were always within my reach, I never 
learned to ride horseback, and never cared particularly about driving. 

I used to consider myself a tolerably expert " dodger " in the game of 
prisoner's base, which had great vogue at the academy ; and I believe I have 
never since engaged in any athletic pastime which could not be practiced 
solitarily. I was a regular patron of the gymnasium, both at the academy and 
at college ; and, during the fourteen years since then, my usual morning cus- 
tom, except on days when more extensive exercise was impending, has been 
to swing the Indian clubs for a quarter-hour after taking a cold-water bath. 
The latter practice has been persisted in by me for some eighteen years as my 
inevitable first act after getting out of bed ; and not even the mornings of my 
four voyages across the stormy ocean were allowed to be exceptions to the 
mle. A Mth and change of clothes are also my first demand at the end of a 
day of bicycling. Food is always made a secondary consideration, then, with 
me, no matter how sharp my appetite. Indeed, I can abstain from food for a 
great many hours, whether I am engaged in driving the wheel or driving the 
pen, without suffering any special inconvenience ; and a rule which obliged 
me to '* take my meals at regular hours " would exasperate me to the last 
d^ee. For many years my simple and savage custom has been to "eat 


when I was hungry," or when food was conveniently accessible, whether once, 
twice, thrice, or four times a day, whether at daybreak or at midnight. That 
this course should be pursued without prejudice to health is, perhaps, due to 
my profound faith in the first LatiA maxim ever given me to construe: 
Fames condimentum est optimum. "A good appetite" has, indeed, always 
been with me, and I have never doubted that it was " the best sauce." 1 have 
never spoiled it by making trial of tobacco or fire-water, or highly spiced 
dishes. I have not even tasted tea or coffee since I was a boy of fifteen. 
Otherwise I am omnivorous, and take with a relish, and with sure digestion, 
all sorts of eatables, — flesh, fish, fowl, vegetables, or fruit, — which are ever 
anywhere offered for human consumption, provided, of course, that they have 
not been doctored with pepper or other fiery sauces. 

Perhaps the foregoing explains why I never feel the need of " going into 
training " for a tour. I am always " in training." I am always in condition 
to enjoy a day*s ride of forty miles on a bicycle, even though I may not have 
mounted it for months. I sometimes have occasion to laugh on being told of 
people who mistake me for an invalid, on account of the lack of ruddy color 
in my face; for, in reality, I have been exceptionally lucky in avoiding all 
approach to serious illness since my early childhood. During a period of 
more than twenty years, ending with the last week of the summer of 'Sz, I 
never was confined to my bed by illness, I never swallowed any medicine, 
and I never asked advice of any physician. An attack of chills and fever 
(the penalty, doubtless, of my neglect of bicycling during the two months pre- 
vious) then forced me for the first time to strike the flag to Fate, and enter 
his hospital for a week's dosing with quinine. Nevertheless, within three 
weeks afterwards, I started forth on my pleasant autumn tour of 400 m., and 
no reminder of my illness kept me company. Since then, however, I have 
noticed that the strain of holding the handle-bar for 40 or 50 m. is sufficient to 
remind me of the weakness in my left elbow, caused by dislocating it on the 
occasion of my first mount in 1879, though in the three years which elapsed 
between that event and the attack of fever the existence of such weakness 
was never once suggested to me. 

The statement of my habits and beliefs in regard to drinking while on 
the road has been reserved to the end, for the sake of emphasis. My prac- 
tice is in direct defiance of the teachings of "that eminent London writer, 
Benjamin Ward Richardson, M. D., F. R. S.," in his " rules for health in tri- 
cycling," as reprinted from Good Wards in 77ie Wheelman for January. My 
practice is in flat opposition to the solemn warnings of all the other eminent 
medicine-men, from A to Z, whose prolonged contemplation of the needs of 
the human body in its phases of disease has robbed them of the vision which 
enables the unsophisticated savage to clearly see its needs in a state of 
health. My practice is to drink freely, frequently, unstintedly I How else 
can a man, who sweats as copiously as I do, preserve his comfort, or rightly 
regulate his temperature? Fire-water always excepted, I eagerly imbibe 

MY 234 RIDES ON ''NO, 234." 63 

almost every conceivable beverage that comes within reach. Water, ice- 
water, soda-water, mineral-water, lemonade, milk, chocolate, sarsaparilla, root- 
beer, lager, shandygaff, ale, porter, half-and-half, cider, and light wines, — all 
these "drinks " I swallow in great quantities, when heated by riding; and I 
also delight in chopped ice, water-ices, ice-cream, melons, lemons, oranges, 
apples, and all sorts of juicy fruits. Solid food is of small consequence to 
me on a hot day's ride, but drink I must have and plenty of it. " Drink as 
little as possible " ? Well, I should smile ! Rather do I drink as much as 
possible, and thank Mother Nature betimes for the keen ph3rsical delight im- 
plied in the possession of so intense a healthy thirst simultaneously with the 
means of gratifying it healthily ! Your little riding-rules may do well enough 
for babes and sucklings of the tricycle, Dr. Richardson ; but don't you pre- 
sume to thrust them upon a six-thousand-mile bicycler like me ! How I wish 
that you, or some other abstemious Fellow (of the Royal Society, London), 
had tried to trundle a tricycle behind me for fifty miles through the blazing 
sands of Long Island on that historic " hottest day of seven years " ! Per- 
haps then you would have adopted my theory that thirst, under such circum- 
stances, is one of Nature's warning signals which it were dangerous to dis 
regard. Perhaps, again, you would have preferred pertinaciously to die for 
your theory, even at the risk of being buried with Truth at the bottom of one 
of the numerous wells which I that day drank dry! I'm sorry to appear 
uncivil, but my rage at your repressive rules must be given vent, and so I 
finally break out into rhyme in this way : — 

Just hear the roar, " Two-Thirty-Four," 

Of all these learned buffera, 
Who say they think 't is wrong to drink 

When raging thirst one suffers ! 
But you and I know that 's a lie, 

And so I shout out glidly : — 
" Dnnk all you can, my thirsty man, 

Nor choke in saddle sadly ! 
Don't ever fear good lager-beer, 

When there 's no water handy ; 
Drink pints of ale, milk by the pail, 

But never rum nor brandy I 
Dritik half-and-half, or shandygaff. 

Or lemonade, or cider ; 
Drink till your thirst is past its worst, 

Then mount, a freshened rider ! 
Keep fairly cool (that is the rule) , 

Curse not, nor fume, nor worry *. 
(My ' fume ' )oke means tobacco amoke) ; 

Nor take risks in a hurry \ 
Nor tear your shirt while on a spurt ; 

Nor clothes while in a snarl don *, 
Just make no futo ; just be like us — 

* Two-Thirty-Four* and Karl Kron." 



Washington Square, which is the real center of the world, as the 
three thousand subscribers to this book are well aware, stands at the head of 
Fifth Avenue, which is the wealthiest and most famous street in America, as 
intelligent people in general are well aware. The Avenue stretches north- 
ward from the Square, in a perfectly straight line, for six-and-a-half miles, or 
until terminated by Harlem River, unless it be considered as ending where a 
break is made in it by Mount Morris Square, at 120th St., about a mile below 
the river terminus, and about a half-mile above Central Park, whose eastern 
wall fronts upon the Avenue for two-and-a-half miles. Double that distance 
intervenes between the southern wall of the Park and the southern terminus 
of Manhattan Island, which is a little park called the Battery ; and Washing- 
ton Square lies just about midway between them. " Of the 26,500 acres com- 
prising the area of the city, 14,000 acres compose Manhattan Island, which 
is thirteen-and-a-half miles long, and increases in breadth from a few hundred 
yards at the Battery to two-and-a-quarter miles at 14th st. Its breadth is but 
little less than this for the next five miles, or to 114th st. ; while for the last 
four miles, or from 144th st (just below the region of Washington Heights) 
to Kingsbridge, the island averages less than a mile in width. It was orig- 
inally very rough, a rocky ridge running from the south point northward and 
branching into several spurs which united after four or five miles, culminating 
in Washington Heights, 238 feet above tide-water, and in a bold promontory 
of 130 feet at the extreme northern point. The East River, which is simply 
the outlet of Long Island Sound, separates it from Long Island, on the east ; 
a narrow arm of the Sound (called Harlem River and Spuyten Duyvil Creek, 
though forming a mere tidal channel of connection with the Hudson) sepa- 
rates it from the mainland of the State, on the north ; while the great Hudson 
itself (often called the North River) separates it from the State of New 
Jersey, on the west. On the south lies the bay, beyond which, distant half-a- 
dozen miles from the Battery, is Staten Island, whose easternmost point ap- 
proaches within about a mile of the westernmost point of Long Island to form 
the Narrows, — the passageway between New York Harbor and the Atlantic 
Ocean. The settlement of the island was begun at the Battery (by the Dutch 
in 1623), and extended northward very gradually, so that, at the opening of 
the present century, when the population numbered 60,000, there were few 

1 From The Springfield IVkeelmen^s GatftU, April, 1885, pp. 211, 212. 


residents as far up as the region of the present Washington Square, which 
the city purchased in 1797 for a Potter's Field. Burials ceased to be made 
long before 1830, however, when it was changed to Washington Parade Ground. 
The houses now surrounding it are numbered consecutively (i to 79), from the 
north-east comer westward, southward, eastward, and northward. No. 79 is 
a recently-built apartment-house for bachelors, called < The Benedict ' ; and 
its broad front of red brick combines with the brown-and-blue stone of the 
old church adjoining, and the white granite fa^atU of the massive University 
Building, just beyond, to form quite an imposing eastern boundary for this 
most attractively secluded Square."* 

Fourth Street forms the southern boundary of the same, and the streets 
below that are irregular in nomenclature as well as in length, breadth and 
direction. In this old part of the city the great bulk of its business is trans- 
acted, and its " tenement house population " live there — one of the wards 
containing more than 290,000 of them to the square mile. It is a confession 
of pecuniary weakness and of social unimportance for a New Yorker to re- 
side below Washington Square, for this oasis of eight acres serves as a well- 
recognized dividing line between wealth and poverty, virtue and vice, dis- 
tinction and obscurity. It is a stock joke, on the local variety-stage, to speak 
of South Fifth Avenue (the " French quarter " of New York) as if it were 
in every way equal to the Avenue ; but though the social separation of the 
two streets is of the superlative sort, the slight geographical barrier between 
them is represented by the width of the Square, l^rom this extending south- 
ward also is Thompson Street, distinguished as the " negro quarter " ; while 
the " Irish quarter," the " German quarter," the ** Jew quarter," and the 
other foreign " groups," which give the city so cosmopolitan a cast, must all 
be sought in the densely-populated region below the Square. 

Above it the streets are all numbered consecutively rather than named; 
and the reckoning of distances is rendered easy by the fact that any given 
twenty of them cover a mile ; 34th st, for example, being a mile above 14th st. 
Each of these is of extra width, as a special thoroughfare, and the same may 
be said of 23d, 42d, 57th, 72d, 79th, 86th, 96th, io6th, it6tb, 125th and 145th; 
while 59th and i loth are important as respectively marking the lower and 
upper boundaries of Central Park. Fourteenth Street extends in a straight 
line across the island, east and west, from river to river, and all the streets of 
higher numbers are exactly parallel to it, though the continuity of many of 
them is broken by the Central Park and smaller squares. The longitudinal 
roads of the island are laid at right-angles to these streets, and are designated 
as avenues, being parallel to Fifth Avenue, which, though not exactly in the 
center, may be considered the backbone of the system. "The house-num* 
bers begin there, and run east and west, a new hundred beginning at each of 
the other numbered avenues, whether the prior hundred has been filled out or 

» " Appletons' Dktionary of New York," p. 160, somewhat altered. 


not.** Thus, loi East 50th st. is the first door cast of 4th av. ; 201 East 50th 
St. is the first east of 3d av. ; loi West 50th st. is the first door west of 6lh 
av. ; 201 West 50th st. is the first west of 7th av., and so on. The higher the 
number, the further the distance from Fifth Avenue, the nearer the approach 
to the waterside, and, usually, the poorer the character of the house. East of 
First Avenue may be found Avenue A ; and, in the lower part of the system, 
also Avenues B, C, and D ; while Eleventh Avenue is on the extreme west 
side. To accredit a man with residence upon any of these is to announce 
him as far removed from the world of society and fashion. Broadway, the 
longest thoroughfare of the island, extends in a straight line from the Battery 
to Grace Church (loth St.), in a direction nearly parallel to that of the ave- 
nues ; but it then takes a diagonal course to the westward, crossing 5th av. 
at 23d St., 6th av. at 34th st., 7th av. at 44th st., 8th av. at 59th st. (the south- 
west corner of Central Park), 9th av. at 64th St., loth av. at 70th st. ; and at 
io6th St. it enters nth av., whose identity there becomes merged in it. 
Broadway above 59th st. is known as the Boulevard, and is laid out with two 
wide road-beds, separated by small parks of grass and trees in the center, 
as far as 125th st. It continues of extraordinary width for two miles above 
that, or until it joins the Kingsbridge road at 170th st., and trees are regu- 
larly ranged along each of its sides. Above Kingsbridge, it is again Broadway. 
Below Central Park (S9th st.), the island is so completely covered with 
buildings that such of its original inequalities of surface as have not been 
graded out of existence 'are practically hidden or forgotten. A resident 
habitually thinks of the city as flat, though considerable hills and depressions 
may be found on both Broadway and Fifth Avenue, if one cares to look for 
them ; and, on many of the lateral streets, sharp descents are noticed as one 
approaches the waterside. The stone pavement which covers all the streets 
of the city (with insignificant exceptions), for five miles above the Battery, is 
usually spoken of as " Belgian block " ; and much of it really is so, as in 
Fifth and other avenues. Broadway and niany other streets, however, are 
paved with stones shaped like bricks, but much larger, laid edgewise, and 
with the long side at right-angles to the main line of traffic. Though I have 
driven my bicycle over these five miles of stone blocks (doing the last half of 
the distance, through Fifth Avenue to the Park, without dismount), I must 
declare that there is little pleasure in such rough riding. In the winter, how- 
ever, I have often seen the cracks between the stones so well filled with 
frozen mud or snow as to supply a smooth surface ; and I hope I may some- 
time find leisure to make an extensive trial of the New York streets while 
in this attractive condition. The city sidewalks are almoi>t all composed of 
broad, smooth flagstones, — ^brick or concrete being rarely used for the pur- 
pose,— but, as their curb is six inches or so above the street level, the bicycler 
who resorts to them must dismount at every crossing. In a north-and-south 
direction, therefore, he must make twenty stops to the mile ; but, in an east- 
and-west direction, he may go by stretches nearly a quarter-mile long between 


the Hudson River and Fifth Avenue. East of that thoroughfare his stops 
will be twice as frequent, for Madison av. is interpolated between 5th av. and 
4ih av , and Lexington av. between 4th av. and 3d av. ; while the distances 
between 3d av., 2d av., and ist av. are less than those between the avenues 
on the west side. 

There is no special municipal regulation against bicycling on the side- 
walks, though each policeman may prohibit it on his own beat, under the 
general orders given him to keep the walks clear of all " obstructions." It 
depends upon circumstances or personal temper whether any individual 
policeman exercises this right of prohibition; but the probability is against 
his doing so unless the number of people on the walk is so great that no 
prudent person would wish to ride a bicycle among ,them. Policemen have 
urged me to mount on the crowded sidewalks of Wall Street, and have or- 
dered me to dismount on upper Fifth Avenue when the walks were almost 
vacant. The same officer who may grant the request to ride, if politely put 
to him, for the sake of seeing " how the thing is started," may soon after- 
wards, on meeting a man already in the saddle, order him to leave it, for the 
sake of seeing " how the thing is stopped," or because the whim takes him 
to gratify his feeling of authority by humbling the pride of the superior 
creature whom he imagines to look down disdainfully upon himself from the 
serene upper heights of the wheel. The street children are a much greater 
obstacle than the patrolmen, however, to sidewalk touring in the metropolis ; 
for the appearance of a bicycle in most of the densely-populated quarters 
will generally draw out so tumultuous a swarm of them as to force the lover- 
of-quiet to dismount, in order to rid himself of his escort, — even if he can 
persuade them to give him a pledge of safety by taking to the roadway, in- 
stead of running noisily alongside him on the walk. The children will usually 
agree to this at the outset, as they are anxious to see the riding ; but the new- 
comers in their ranks will continually infringe upon the rule ; and the task 
of shouting Avith sufficient vigor to drive them out of reaching distance of the 
rear-wheel, and of simultaneously keeping a sufficiently sharp eye for obstacles 
ahead of the front wheel, is too great a task to be paid for by the pleasures of 
the experience. 

There is a broad sidewalk of hardened earth (having a central line of 
flagstones on the 8th av. side from S9th st. to iioth St., and on the 5th av. side 
from 90th St. to iioth st.) which serves as a border for Central Park, and on 
which a bicycle might be driven for about six miles without more than twice 
that number of dismounts being required by the curbs ; but the walk is under 
control of the same persons who have charge of the walks inside the park 
walls, and they prohibit wheeling upon it. This is no great deprivation, 
however, for the roadway of 5th av. is macadamized from the park-entrance 
to Harlem River; while a wheelman along the west side, who might wish to 
avoid the Belgian blocks of 8th av. by resorting to the flagstones, would 
rarely be molested, — so slight a watch is kept of the very few foot-passengers 


along that thoroughfare. The west-side bicycler, furthermore, would usually 
prefer to avoid the desolate 8th av. altogether, and try the Boulevard, before 
described as extending in the same general direction, a little to the west of 
it ; for this is macadamized as far as 1 55th St., and probably soon will be to 
its junction with the Kingsbridge road at 170th st. When I first began rid- 
ing, in 1879, *^s surface was in rather better condition than now ; and the 
construction of a double-line of street-car tracks, within the last few months, 
will impair the facility formerly .enjoyed by the bicycler for changing from 
one side of the Boulevard to the other, though each side of it will still afford 
him ample space to ride upon. Four transverse roads, as they are called, 
pass under Central Park from east to west, leaving 5th av. at 65th st., 79th 
St., 85th St. and 97th st^ and entering 8th av. at 66th St., 8ist st., 86th st., and 
97th St., respectively. The sidewalks of all the four are smooth, as are also 
the roadways of some of them. The highest passage (97th st.) is the poorest 
of all, and the lowest is chiefly to be recommended, on account of its near- 
ness to 7 2d St., which is an important macadamized thoroughfare both east 
and west of the park. The Belgian blocks of its lower border, 59th St., may 
be ridden more easily in an easterly direction, because there is a descending 
grade from 8th av. to sth av. At the upper end of the park, macadam covers 
the whole surface of iioth st. from river to river, — ^its westernmost terminus 
being the Riverside Drive. This is a broad parkway, of excellent macadam- 
ized surface, which extends along the heights overlooking the Hudson, from 
7 2d St. to 129th St., and which may also be entered at 11 6th st. and elsewhere. 
Its average width is about 500 feet and its area is 178 acres. It has been 
open to the public only two or three years, but some handsome residences 
are already to be found there, and the expectation is that its eastern side will 
in course of time be solidly lined with them. The same hope is held in re- 
gard to the adjacent Boulevard ; and, indeed, the whole region west of Central 
Park is destined soon to be covered with fine houses, though the shanties of 
the squatters have not yet completely disappeared from the rocks. The)' may 
still be seen, also, in the corresponding unsettled region east of the park ; 
and though the avenues and streets nearest to it will finally be filled with 
elegant mansions, a majority of the habitations on the lower ground near the 
water will be of a humbler sort than a majority of those west of the park. 
North of this is a region not yet built upon, where market-gardens and hot- 
beds cover unbroken acres of ground which the city map represents as cut up 
by the east-and-west numerical streets. When these are really built, upon 
the lines now laid down, it is likely that many of them may be macadamized, 
as 1 1 6th, 145th, I52d, and 155th sts. already are. A level, macadamized 
stretch, about two miles long, straight from Central Park to Harlem River, 
is supplied by both 6th av. and 7th av., but the latter has a good deal of earth 
on its surface, and is much frequented by the drivers of fast horses, so that 
the former is to be recommended to the bicycler, who should turn west at 
145th St. and thence ride a half-mile northward to the end of 7th av., in case 


he wishes to cross at Central Bridge. If he continues on 145th st. to the top 
of the hill, he will find the macadamized Boulevard (nth av.) just beyond; 
or he may turn into St Nicholas avenue (macadamized) when half-way up the 
hill, and follow it northward until (at i6ist st., where it crosses loth av.) he 
finds its name changed to Kingsbridge road; while, if he turns left from 145th 
SL, he may follow the avenue in a south-easterly direction, crossing 8th and 
7th avs. obliquely, and reaching its end at the junction of 6th av. and iioth st. 

The rider who enters Manhattan Island at Harlem Bridge (3d av. at 
130th St.) may go through 127th st. to ist av. and down this to 109th St., 
mostly on macadamized surface ; thence to 92d st. the roadway is unpaved, 
but I have found its frozen earth to supply smooth wheeling in December ; 
while from 92d St., to its origin at ist St., ist av. can boast nothing better 
than Belgian block. Th^ next thoroughfare to the eastward, Avenue A, 
offers the best riding surface in that part of the city, for it is smoothly mac- 
adamized from 86th st. to 57th St., and is not marred by the presence of 
horse-car tracks. There is a hill at each end, and the lower one is steep 
enough to be rather difficult ; but from the top of this an excellent view may 
be had of the river-traffic, from the fence overlooking the water, a few rods 
to the east. This abrupt terminus of 57th st. is just about opposite the jail, 
which stands a quarter-mile from the southern end of Blackwell's Island; 
and the end of 86th st. is just opposite the light-house which stands at the 
northern point of that island. Stations of the 2d av. elevated railroad are at 
both those streets, and also at 65th, 75th and 80th sts. ; and the rocky water- 
front of much of this region is occupied by monster beer-gardens and picnic- 
grounds, of which the one called Jones's Wood (opened in 1858) is perhaps 
the oldest and most widely-known. At the foot of 86th st. a pretty little 
public park is also included between Avenue B and the river. 

Blackweirs Island, though two miles long, is only about a sixth of a mile 
wide; and the 7/xx) people who are confined to its area of 120 acres are all 
under the care of the Commissioners of Public Charities and Correction, 
whose ofHce is at 3d av. and nth st. By obtaining a pass there, and taking a 
ferry-boat at 26th st. or 52d St., the island may be visited at any time except 
Sunday ; and I presume theVe would not be much difficulty in getting permis- 
sion to visit it with a bicycle. My own written request to that effect, which 
was sent several years ago, never received any response, however ; so that 
my personal knowledge of the paths of the island has been gained entirely on 
the decks of passing steamers, where they certainly seem very smooth and 
attractive for cycling. The heavy granite sea-walls, and the massive buildings, 
have all been constructed by convict labor, from stone quarried on the island ; 
and though the charity hospital, blind asylum, lunatic asylum, convalescent 
hospital, almshouse, workhouse and other institutions are situated there, as 
well as the great penitentiary, which usually contains about 1,200 inmates, it 
is the latter which gives its distinctive character to the place in the popular 
imagination. Allusions to** the Island," according to the current slang of 


the city, always refer to Blackwell's Island ; and any mention of a person 
who has " gone on " or " got off " the same, — ^who has been •* sent up to ** or 
has " come down from " the same, — ^implies that he is an imprisoned or a re- 
leased criminal. 

The uppermost half-mile of Avenue A (known locally as " Pleasant Ave- 
nue "), from its river terminus at 124th st. to where the water again interrupts 
it near 113th st., offers a smooth surface for wheeling; and 5th av., almost a 
mile to the westward, may be reached on the macadam at 124th, 11 6th, iioth 
and 7 2d sts. There is a stretch of rough macadam on 128th st., from 3d to 
6th avs. ; and the macadam of 11 6th st. reaches to 7th av., and will perhaps 
finally be extended to the lower road of Morningside Park. This is an irreg- 
ular, elongated piece of land, comprising some 32 acres, between 123d and 
1 1 oth sts., and its lower road — which is a broad macadamized thoroughfare 
connecting those two streets — begins at its southeast corner, which is about 
500 feet from the northwest comer of Central Park. This road was first 
opened to the public in December, 1884 ; and the corresponding upper road, 
extending along the top of the massive wall which is noticed by passengers 
on the elevated trains, will probably be finished during the present year. The 
surface will be smooth, and the grades not difficult for the bicycler who leaves 
iioth St. at 9th av., of which it is the continuation; while the extensive 
views from the top will well repay him for a brief visit. I have never tried 
loth av. below 145th st. ; but in the other direction it is ridable for two-and-a- 
half miles, or to its terminus at 196th st. This is a sort of " jumping-ofiE 
place," in the woods ; a bluff which the map names as Fort George, and 
which gives a fine view of the meadows stretching along the upper Harlem. 
Bordering loth av., at 173d St., is the embankment of the Croton Reservoir; 
and from this, the highest ground on Manhattan Island, may be had a most 
extensive outlook, which no stranger can afford to miss. Hard by stands 
the lofty water-tower of granite, — one of the city*s most widely-known land- 
marks, — and from the base of this the tourist may carry his bicycle down two 
long flights of steps, to the entrance of High Bridge, whose top is a broad 
walk of brick, with stone parapets, concealing the aqueduct pipes below. 
The structure has thirteen arches, — cresting on solid granite piers, the crown 
of the highest arch being ir6 feet above the river surface, — and it is 1,460 
feet long. The beauty of the scenery makes the bridge a specially pleasant 
place to walk or ride upon, and I have enjoyed several spins there ; but 
recent regulations command that bicycles on the bridge must be trundled by 
their owners, and not ridden. A smooth road called Undercliff av. leads 
northward from the east end of the bridge ; but, if a southern course is de- 
sired, the tourist may soon make a turn to the left and descend the hill into 
Sedgwick av., by which he may go without stop, to Central Bridge (end of 8th 
av.), a mile below. 

When I began exploring this region, in '79, my northward coarse from 
Central Bridge (then called McComb's Dam) was always through Central av. 



to the Kingsbridge road at Jerome Park, whose southern end is bounded by 
it, while its eastern side is bounded by the avenue, which, a mile beyond, 
forms a part of the west boundary of Woodlawn Cemetery, and then contin- 
ues on to White Plains, a dozen miles to the north. I am told that most of 
this upper section affords decent wheeling at certain favorable seasons of the 
year ; though I found a discouraging amount of sand alongside the park, on 
the single occasion, in August, when I ventured beyond its lower border. 
Between there and Central Bridge, a distance of about three-and-a-half miles, 
the avenue may be ridden without dismount, in both directions ; though there 
are t^'o or three short grades whose ascent is apt to be made difficult by 
sand-ruts, while the general looseness of surface, and the general presence of 
many drivers of fast horses, combine to render the course rather unattractive 
for bicycling. The northward-bound tourist had better turn off from it, about 
a mile from the bridge, at the first road which branches to the left above 
Judge Smith's hotel, — ^some thirty or forty rods from it, — ^the hotel being dis- 
tinguished by the fact of its facing the long, straight stretch of the avenue. 
This road .to the left, which may be called a continuation of Gerard av., in the 
course of a half-mile makes a junction with UnderclifE av., before mentioned 
as leading north from High Bridge, not quite a mile away. The combination 
is called Ridge av. and extends nearly two miles to the Kingsbridge road, 
which it enters almost opposite the church that surmounts the little hill on 
the west of Jerome Park. This is a narrower and hillier path than Central 
av., but it is a much prettier and smoother one, for it is largely overhung 
with trees, and it was macadamized in 1884. The tourist who wishes to avoid 
Central av. altogether, should turn left into Sedgwick av., as soon as he 
leaves Central Bridge, and he may then ride continuously on macadam, and 
without dismount, to the Kingsbridge road, though the ascent after passing 
ander High Bridge may be rather difficult to conquer. In the southward di- 
rection, too, the whole track may be traversed without a stop. 

The distance from the gate of Jerome Park to the head of Broadway in 
Kingsbridge is a mile-and-a-half, and the middle-point is the foot of a long 
hill, which I have sometimes ridden down (though I consider the descent a 
rather risky one), and which I once managed to ride up. At the foot of this 
hill, the rider should turn to the right, and then, about a quarter-mile later, to 
the left, down the street leading across the railroad station to Broadway. 
If, instead of turning left at the foot of the hill, he prefers to keep straight 
on, he will probably have to dismount at the railroad tracks, if not also at the 
little Farmer's Bridge, spanning Spuyten Duyvil Creek, and at certain points 
on the causeway leading to the hotel, situated at its junction with the main 
road, which reaches down to loth av, at i62d St., four-and-a-half miles below. 
If he goes up this road for a quarter-mile, and crosses the creek again at the 
true King's Bridge, and turns down to the right for forty rods, he will reach 
the head of Broadway, after having covered about twice the distance required 
by the direct route from the foot of the hill, as before described. This route', 


being newly macadamized, is preferable to the causeway, even though the re- 
turn journey to the city is to be immediately begun, along the main road from 
King's Bridge. The macadamized surface of this favorite thoroughfare has 
varied greatly in quality during the half-dozen years that I have been ac- 
quainted with it ; but, when in average condition, it may be ridden in either 
direction without dismount. A short hill just beyond the Inwood school- 
house is steep enough to stop many northward riders, however; and the 
ascent of Washington Heights, in the other direction, has been long enough 
to stop many others, though its descent has afforded excellent coasting for 
nearly a mile. I use the past tense, because, at the present writing, the rocks 
which form the basis of the road are being blasted away, and its ultimate 
grade will be essentially lower than before. I have never visited what the 
maps designate as the " Public Drive," or " Boulevard," extending from In- 
wood Station (Tubby Hook), along the bluffs of the riverside, to nth av. at 
1 56th St., three miles below ; but its names seem to imply a smooth surface, 
— at least prospectively. It passes the point, about a mile directly west of 
the tower at High Bridge, where stood Fort Washington, an exten§ive earth- 
work which the British captured in November, 1776, thereby causing the 
evacuation, four days later, of its companion stronghold. Fort Lee, on the 
New Jersey side of the Hudson. The mansion of Madame Jumel, which 
served as Washington's headquarters during that historic autumn, still stands 
on the heights overlooking the Harlem, just east of loth av. and a short dis- 
tance below the water-tower. According to the city map, the swampy low- 
lands of this region, which extend from the river's edge to the foot of the 
heights, are ultimately to have a Boulevard, beginning at 1 50th St., and reach- 
ing around the Fort George bluff to make a junction with the Kingsbridge 
road at a point opposite Tubby Hook, a distance of three miles. The half 
mile or more of road northward from the hook, to the end of the blufif which 
terminates the island at Spuyten Duyvil Creek, is probably ridable; but 
there is no way of crossing the creek, except on the uncovered ties of the 
railroad bridge. 

My description of the chief cycling routes on Manhattan Island being 
thus completed, I return to the foot of Jerome Park where the Kingsbridge 
road crosses Central av., and say that the road continues a somewhat wind- 
ing southeasterly course for a half-mile, until it crosses the railroad tracks al 
Fordham, after a sharp descent. Just before beginning this descent, it 
makes a junction with another smoothly macadamized road, leading south- 
westerly to its terminus, a mile distant, at Fordham Landing (or Berrian 
Landing), a little railroad station on the Harlem. This cross-road is inter- 
sected at its middle point by Ridge av., before described ; and I recommend 
it as the best route from Fordham to that avenue, while I at the same time 
offer warning against it, as having no outlet at the riverside. " Pelham and 
Fordham Avenue " is the double-name given to the prolongation of the Kings- 
bridge road, beyond the railway crossing ; and, by riding a straight easterly 



stretch of half-a-mile or more upon its southern sidewalk (great good luck may 
allow this to be done without dismount), the tourist reaches the Southern 
Boulevard, on whose macadam he may then spin along for a half-dozen miles 
without dismount, to its terminus at Harlem Bridge (3d av. at 133d St.). The 
upper terminus of this Boulevard is Central av. at Jerome Park, about a mile- 
and-a-half distant from Pelham av. ; but I found that upper section too sandy 
for bicycling, when I first tried it, in '79, and I suppose it is so still, though 
macadam will doubtless be applied to it at last. The surface of this Southern 
Boulevard has varied greatly during the years that I have been familiar with 
it ; but it has no difficult grades, and, at its worst, it is always ridable ; while, 
at its best, it supplies some of the smoothest and swiftest stretches for riding 
that can be found in the whole metropolitan district. If one turns west at 
the first macadamized street above Boston av. (whose crossing of the Boule- 
vard is distinguished by horse-car tracks), he may ride smoothly for about a 
mile to Tremont (whence I have wheeled . along the railway line a mile or 
more northward to Fordham), and I presume there may be at least one fairly 
ridable road among the three or four which lead from Tremont to Central 
av. Another pleasant easterly route from this last-named thoroughfare may 
be found by crossing the bridge above Gabe Case's hotel, which is about a 
third-of-a-mile above Central Bridge, and walking up a short hill (165th st.) to 
the entrance of Fleetwood Park at Walton av. This has a macadamized 
surface, upon whose gentle downward slope the rider may go without stop to 
138th St., where he will cross the railroad track at Mott Haven station and 
soon reach 3d av., a quarter-of-a-mile above Harlem Bridge. Walton av. 
may also be reached by taking the first easterly road above Central Bridge. 
From the rocky hill-tops along this route, some fine views may be had. 

Twenty-four miles is the distance from Harlem Bridge to the bridge over 
the little Byram River, by which the tourist crosses from Port Chester, the 
easternmost town on the shore of New York, into the State of Connecticut. 
Such is the distance, I mean, in case he takes the route described in my cha|>- 
ter on " Winter Wheeling " ; and the average excellence of its surface is 
shown by the fact that, on the 26th of April, 1884, I traversed it all during 
four hours of the forenoon, spite of considerable rain. On that month, also, 
macadam was applied to the " bad three miles " above the drawbridge at 
Pelham Bay, transforming the same into one of the smoothest and pleasantest 
stretches of the entire route. A quarter-mile below this bridge, Fordham and 
Pelham Avenue, before mentioned, branches off from the Eastern Boulevard 
and extends in almost a straight line westward, for four miles, until it crosses 
the Southern Boulevard where the latter's macadam ends. If macadam ever 
replaces the present soft surface of these other broad roadways, the bicycler 
will be enabled to make a continuous circuit of more than a dozen miles upon 
them without a dismount. Just about at the middle point of the six mac- 
adamized miles of Southern Boulevard, the Westchester turnpike, which is 
also of hard surface, branches off northeastward ; and when the tourist has 


traveled along it for three miles, and crossed the creek of the same name, he 
may tiirn left into a soft road, whose several branches all lead into the East- 
ern Boulevard, in the direction of Pelham Bridge. I recommend him, how- 
ever, to continue on the hard road to the right, for nearly a mile, until it 
crosses the Boulevard at the hamlet of Schuylerville, from which point he can 
follow its side-paths to the bridge. Before doing this, he may make a pleasant 
detour to the shore of the Sound, a mile-and-a-half beyond, by keeping straight 
ahead, on the same macadamized track. Near the end of this, I recollect 
taking a very smooth spin of a third-of-a-mile, along a road to the west, which 
had no outlet ; and I think that the road leading east, and terminating at the 
entrance of Fort Schuyler, on Throggs Neck, is most of it fairly ridable, if not 
also macadamized. At all events, the region is an attractive one for the city 
cycler to explore. 

^On the 19th of April, 1883, the centennial anniversary of the day when 
Washington proclaimed to his army at Newburgh that the long fight was 
ended, I made a pilgrimage to the historic battle-field of White Plains, 
situated midway between the waters of the Sound and the Hudson. A mile 
below the bridge by which I entered Port Chester, and near the foot of its 
main street (opposite a little park, containing a music stand), there branches 
westward a broad avenue which is called *' Purchase " for the first mile, and 
afterwards " Westchester." Up this I started, at a quarter-past nine, and 
rode most of the grades, on the sidewalk flagstones, to the top of the high 
hill. Macadam, not yet trodden smooth, covered the downward slope, and I 
walked up the latter half of the ascent which followed. Beyond a big water- 
ing-trough of stone, the road makes a turn to the left ; and at that point I 
climbed up on a lofty rock in the neighboring orchard, and watched the 
waters of the Sound for half an hour, since that was to be my last chance for 
the day. Thence I wheeled, by an average good road, winding among the 
hills, but pretty level, near the Mamaroneck river, to the soldier's statue, in 
White Plains, opposite which a turn must be made to the left, to reach the 
center of the town. I, however, proceeded up the wide thoroughfare called 
Broadway to the old cannon, which marks where the American line was 
drawn up to receive the British, in the battle of 1776. Beyond this is still 
another monument, in the form of an ancient mortar, which marks a second 
historic point in that day's strife. I used the west sidewalk in ascending the 
hill, but returned in the roadway, and when I entered the street opposite the 
bronze soldier (Railroad av.), I met with a most excellent stretch of mac- 
adam, along which I coasted down into the village. Beyond here, after 
crossing the Bronx river, I found good riding, on a somewhat winding track, 
composed of light loam, which would probably be loose and dusty in dry 
weather; and I did no walking till I reached the hill after crossing the tracks 

iThis paragraph is from The Bicycling World, May 18, .1883, p. 18. The remainder of the 
article is from Tht fVkeel, March (13, 27) and May, 1885. 



near a railway station. This point was five miles from the cannon on the 
battle-field, and the cannon was seven miles from Port Chester. Another 
mUe brought me to the Vincent House in Tarrytown ; and, as I suddenly 
emerged from the woods upon the crest of the hill leading down to the same, 
the unexpected sight of the Hudson, which is three miles broad at this point, 
and of Nyack on the bank beyond, was refreshing in the extreme. A tourist 
would do well to rest there before descending to the level of Broadway, on 
the west side of which, a few rods to the north, stands the Vincent House. 
As the slope of Benedict av. is a sharp one, and makes a right angle with 
Broadway, it should be descended with care. 

At a point called Elmsford or Hall's Corners, — about midway between 
White Plains and Tarrytown, I crossed the Nepperhan or Sawmill river, a 
little stream which runs through a pleasantly-secluded and thinly-settled 
valley, parallel to the Hudson, which it gradually approaches until it empties 
into it at Yonkers, ten or a dozen miles below. During all this distance a 
dirt road runs along the east side of the stream, and I am told that its surface 
is fairly ridable for many seasons of the year, and that it has few steep grades. 
A railway also runs beside the river, generally on its west bank ; and at Ash- 
ford station, about four miles below Elmsford, a fine macadamized roadway 
stretches west, for a mile, to intersect Broadway at Dobbs Ferry, on the 
Hudson. About half-way between Ashford and Elmsford, there is another 
cross-road to Broadway at Irvington ; and still another such track branches 
off from the river road, about half a mile above, and passes through the 
hamlet of Dublin. I hardly suppose that these supply very good riding ; but 
at the cross-road next below Ashford (two miles), Broadway at Hastings 
is less than a mile distant, and I think that a part of the track (Washington 
av.) is macadamized. All of these cross-roads from the Hudson, and some 
of the others between Hastings and Yonkers continue eastward to Cen- 
tral av., whose course is generally within half a mile of the west bank of the 
Bronx river, all the way from Jerome Park to White Plains. 

The Vincent House, in Tarrytown, is perhaps the most notable objective- 
point known to metropolitan tourists, and it has been recognized as such 
from the earliest days of cycling. The approach to it from 59th St., either 
at 5th av. or at 8th av., is usually called 25 miles ; and, though there are 
several variations in the route, it may be generally designated as " Broadway, 
a macadamized turnpike, overlooking the Hudson River, and identical in 
most of its lines with the old post road to Albany." Not many miles of its 
surface are absolutely level ; and, of its numerous hills, some are too long and 
some are too steep for comfort ; but I have ridden every one of them, in both 
directions (I except the highest hill at Dobbs Ferry, where a choice of gentler 
grade is possible); and, on the 7th of November, 1882, between 2.45 and 
6.38 P. M., I rode without dismount from the Vincent Hoyse to 59th st. and 
then back to Washington Heights (155th St.), a distance which my 
cyclometer called 29^ miles, though it is usually considered to be somewhat 


greater. 1 am told that this 25-m. route has been traversed in each direc- 
tion without dismount by several other riders, though the exact statistics of 
their journeys are not known to me ; and nothing more need be said to desig- 
nate this as the longest and finest straightaway course leading out of the dty. 
When I first tried it, on the afternoon of November 24, 1879, ^ found a good 
riding surface as far as the pond about a mile northwest of the Vincent 
House ; and then, aiter walking up the hill past Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, I 
trudged through the sand for nearly two miles, or to a point very near the 
great arch of the aqueduct. Here I was assured that the road continued 
just as soft all the way to Sing Sing, say four miles beyond; and so I 
returned to the hotel for the night. The fact that there is no other good 
public house nearer than Yonkers, a dozen miles below, coupled with the 
fact that it stands so near the end of the smooth roadway, and is just about a 
comfortable hal£-day*s journey above 59th St., explains its exceptional im- 
portance as a cycling landmark. The casual wheelman will always be sure of 
finding an excellent dinner awaiting him there, at one o'clock in the after- 
noon, at a cost of seventy-five cents ; and ample facilities exist for supplying 
special accommodations to larger parties who may arrange for the same in 
advance. Several respectable restaurants and oyster saloons may also be 
found in the village, chiefly along Main St., which makes a right-angle from 
Broadway, where one descends it not far above the Vincent House, and 
which then slopes sharply to the railway station and steamboat dock, on the 
river level, about a half-mile from the hotel. At a similar distance above the 
latter, on the west side of Broadway, stands the monument to mark the spot 
where the British spy, Major Andre, was captured in 1780; and at the cross- 
roads, a little beyond here, by taking the left, through Beekman av. and 
Cortlandt St., another smooth descent may be made to the railway station. 
By turning to the right at the cross-roads just named, and soon again to the 
right at the next crossing, one may enter the County House road, which 
climbs over the ridge to East Tarry town, a mile distant, on the Sawmill river- 
road. This is more than two miles above Elmsford, where I crossed that 
road on my ride from White Plains; and the map shows that it follows the 
stream up to its source at Pleasantville, five miles further. I hope to explore 
it some day, and perhaps push on through Chappaqua and Mount Kisco to 
the Croton river, — ^the road along which, for the last five or six miles, before it 
reaches the Hudson, above Sing Sing, ought to prove fairly level and ridable. 
A third route northward from Tarrytown to Sing Sing is ofitered by the 
Sleepy Hollow road, which is about midway between the sandy Albany turn- 
pike and the Sawmill valley; but of its character I have as yet no knowledge. 
The southward route from the Vincent House along Broadway, to the 
King's Bridge (14^ m.), is probably as pleasant a one for the wheelman as 
any similar short stretch in America ; and, though he may comfortably cover 
it without leaving the saddle, he will be disposed, on his first visit, at least, 
to stop many times, for the better viewing of its numerous points of scenic or 


historic interest Four miles from the start, where the direct road leads up a 
steep hill, surmounted , by a church, he should swerve to the right ; and then 
he may coast through the main street of the village for half-a-mile before 
ascending the gentle grade which will bring him again into Broadway. Even 
on a northward tour, this roundabout course is preferable, though the church 
hill may be ridden up in that direction for quite a distance, and possibly even 
to its summit, by a stronger rider than myself. Here, at Dobbs Ferry, the 
residence of ex-Judge Beach is notable as being the self-^ame house in which 
Washington signed the treaty of peace with Great Britain, May 3, 1783. At 
Hastings, two miles below, a pleasant detour of a half-mile may be made 
through the village, by turning to the right at the fork, though the final up- 
grade is rather steeper than that of the direct route ; while, on the northern 
journey, this descent towards the river is apt to be passed by unnoticed, so 
sharply does it curve backward from the main road. A half-mile below this 
point, another fork offers a choice of routes for half-a-mile, — the left having 
the steepest grade, and the right usually the softest surface. This river-road 
through the woods affords several fine views of the stream, and of the 
Palisades which tower above its west shore. It may be more easily ridden 
in the other direction ; and the only time when I ever got through it without 
stop, while touring southward, was on the occasion 6f my long straightaway 
ride. The northward tourist may recognize it from the fact that it branches 
off just Above the point where the termination of the macadam reminds him 
that he has reached the city-limits of Yonkers. The other road is a trifle 
shorter, but I should consider the rider very lucky who could go through it in 
either direction without a dismount. Perhaps one or both of these half-mile 
stretches will soon be properly paved — thereby closing the only gap in a con- 
tinuous macadamized track between the Vincent House and 59th st. 

The Getty House, facing the little open square of that name in the center 
of Yonkers, three-and-a-half miles below the northern city-limits, is reached 
by a descent of more than a mile of varying grades, the lowest one being the 
steepest. I have never ridden up this but once — ^which was on the forenoon 
of the same day when I covered the whole course southward without stop— 
and, though the sharp pitch is only a few rods long, it is the most difficult one 
to conquer on the entire course. The rider who conquers it, and then keeps 
in the saddle for another mile of up-hill work, will probably feel about as 
thoroughly tired as I did, when he gets to the top. Even in descending this 
steep slope he should exercise considerable care, for he must then ride about 
forty rods towards the left, through a street usually crowded with vehicles, to 
reach the Getty House comer. If he still keeps to the left for another fifty 
rods, through Main St., he will reach Nepperhan av. (which makes a right 
angle to the left, and by which he may turn backward towards the northeast, 
if he wishes to reach the Sawmill river-road) ; and by continuing southward 
for twice that distance he will re-enter Broadway, about two-thirds of a mile be- 
low the Getty House. I myself generally prefer the Broadway route, whether 


going northward or southward, though the distance is a trifle longer, and a hill 
is to be climbed which the Main st. route avoids. About a mile below the 
junction of the two routes, Valentine's Lane branches westward through the 
trees, to make connection with Riverdale av., a quarter-mile distant ; and the 
unpaved grades of this cross-road used nearly always to force a dismount, in 
the days when Riverdale av. supplied the only practicable path between 
Yonkers and the King's Bridge. When I had managed to worry through this 
lane, on the occasion of my straightaway ride from Tarrytown, in 1882, I felt 
confident that, barring accidents, I should succeed In reaching 59th st. without 
stop. But the lane need no longer be resorted to, for the macadam of Broad- 
way now stretches unbrokenly to Spuyten Duyvil Creek, — the last unpaved 
section having been covered with it in 1884, — and affords a charming ride of 
more than two miles through a well-wooded valley, where the houses are not 
numerous enough to be obtrusive, and where there is only one ascent long 
enough to be tiresome. 

A very long and tiresome ascent, however, does confront the rider who 
starts northward from the creek by the old route, which was the only practi- 
cable one until the recent macadamization of Broadway at Mosholu. Turn- 
ing sharply to the left when he leaves the King's Bridge, he will cross 
the railway tracks after about forty rods of rough macadam, and then turn 
to the right, up the long hill of Riverdale av., whose top is a mile and a half 
from the bridge. If he can keep his saddle for the first thirty rods of the 
climb, he need not stop short of the summit (for the upper grades are gen- 
tler), and he may thence continue without dismount for two miles, to Mt. SL 
Vincent, — though some of the intermediate slopes are steep enough to make 
the novice groan. On the descending grade of this hill he should turn to 
the right, into Valentine's Lane, before described, if he wishes to reach the 
macadam of Broadway ; and he may recognize the lane as forming the north- 
em boundary of the grounds that slope downward from a large public-build- 
ing of red brick, upon the crest of the hill. Here the northward tourist sees 
the Hudson for the first time after leaving 1 55th st., and he also gets his first 
view of Yonkers. Instead of turning into the lane, he may keep straight on 
for a mile and a half, to the center of the city, though the soft spots in the 
road will probably cause more than one dismount. The ancient Manor 
House, which serves as the City Hall and which is one of the very few his- 
toric structures of America having a record of more than two centuries, stands 
here at the corner of Dock st., fronting on Warburton av., though this is 
simply a prolongation, for a mile, in a perfectly straight line, of the less- 
straight Riverdale av., which crosses the outlet of the Sawmill river just 
before reaching Dock st. From the end of the ridable sidewalk of Warbur- 
ton av., which terminates abruptly in the northern outskirts of the town, one 
must walk up-hill for a half-mile through the woods to reach Broadway, — 
passing a spring of good drinking-water a few rods from this. I have never 
descended this hill to Warburton av., though 1 think it would have to be 


walked ; but the views which may be had of the Hudson and the Palisades, 
when riding along the avenue, repay an occasional choice of this lower route. 
The route from the center of Yonkers, through Nepperhan av. northeast- 
ward, is a smoothly-macadamized one as far as the first road which crosses 
it beyond the aqueduct arch. The tourist should follow this road down to 
the right, for one block, to the cemetery, where he Mrill turn left up the Saw- 
mill river-road. On the 17th of December, 1884, my first dismount on my 
first trial of this route was caused by a hill which is three miles and a half 
from the Getty House ; but I did much walking on the three miles between 
that hill and Ashford (where I struck the macadam leading back to Broadway 
at Dobbs Ferry), though, at a more favorable season, I presume the whole 
circuit might be covered, in either direction, without a stop. The tour 
between these parallel and heavily-wooded ranges of hills must surely be a 
very pleasant one to take in spring or early summer ; and the Tuckahoe road, 
leading eastward across Central av. to the village of that name, and Yonkers 
av., leading similarly to Mt. Vernon, both seemed smooth enough to tempt 
me to explore them, on the day I have mentioned, in spite of the warning 
snow-flakes. I have been assured that fairly ridable roads connect both 
Tuckahoe and Mt Vernon, with the east-side thoroughfare along the Sound, 
which I have already described ; and I have no doubt that there are many 
other routes well worth exploring in this terminal triangle of Westchester 
County, whose base-line I have drawn at the road connecting Port Chester 
with Tarrjrtown. Nevertheless, the famous macadamized turnpike, parallel to 
the shore of the river which forms the west side of this triangle, will always 
make the strongest appeal to the bicycler at the outset of his touring in the 
metropolitan district. Alongside it stand the country castles of our mer- 
chant princes, the rural palaces of our railroad barons, and the more modest 
mansions of other wealthy people who are wise enough to understand that no 
amount of architectural magnificence can avail to *' found a permanent family 
residence " in America, or to prevent unsentimental heirs from knocking it 
down with an auctioneer's hammer as soon as the opulent originator has been 
safely stowed away under the sod. The first notable roadside residence, which 
the tourist northward from Yonkers may be presumed to have some curiosity 
about, is less than a mile above the place where the cross-road from the 
terminus of Warburton av. joins Broadway; and it comes into full view, 
standing on a knoll to the west, as the rider twists around the crest of a short 
hill and enters the straight, sloping stretch which it faces upon. Its name, 
** Greystone," describes the material of this long-fronted, angular "bachelor's 
hall " belonging to Samuel J. Tilden, ex-Governor of the State. Half a 
mile above the churches in Irvington, at the first cross-road, if one turns 
towards the river for a similar distance, he may reach "Sunnyside," the 
former residence of Washington Irving; and " L5mdehurst," Jay Gould's 
castellated mansion, of white limestone, is next but one to the north of 
" Sunnyside." About half-way between Irvington and Dobbs Ferry, or some- 


what nearer the latter, on the eastern slope, stands the house of Cyras W. 
Field, who is popularly ranked with the owners of " Lyndehurst '* and " Grey- 
stone " as having amassed millions by '* developing " the elevated railways of 
the city ; but who deserves a higher rank than they in the world of wheeling, 
by reason of his having caused that mile of smooth macadamized roadway to 
be built from Ashford station to the Hudson. 

Instead of ascending the Riverdale hill to the right, after crossing the 
railroad tracks west of Kingsbridge, I once explored the region to the left 
(Dec. i8, 1883), when a thin film of frozen snow covered the road, which 
might prove fairly good in summer. It winds along close to the railway, 
crossing it twice by bridges (near the point of the Wagner train accident, 
whose horrors were then fresh in public memory), and ends in a little less 
than a mile, at Spuyten Duyvil station. From here, a venturesome tourist 
might possibly scramble across the ties of the railroad bridge and up the 
heights to the road which leads to Tubby Hook; but I preferred to turn 
about and ascend a long hill, by a winding road through the woods, mostly 
ridable, in spite of the snow, until I entered Riverdale av. at a little less 
than a mile above the railroad crossing. The distance from the station to the 
poiift of entering the avenue was a mile and a half; and the entire circuit 
thus amounted to about three miles and a quarter. A barn-like structure, de- 
voted to the sale of " wood and coal, hay and oats," stands at the point on 
the avenue where the road for Spuyten Duyvil branches off through the 
woods. Between this point and Mt. St. Vincent there are two smooth roads 
which branch westward to the river and conned with each other at the sta- 
tion and settlement called Riverdale ; and a detour may well be made through 
them, for the sake of the view. The map shows a road extending from this 
station, for about three-quarters of a mile, parallel to Riverdale av. until it 
joins the same at Mt. St. Vincent ; and it probably offers good riding, though 
J have never chanced to make exploration there. 

Tarrytown lies on a certain famous twelve-mile stretch of the Hudson 
which is called the Tappan Sea, because it has a breadth of more than two 
miles for nearly all that distance. The voyage by ferry to Nyack, which lies 
directly opposite, on the west shore, is, therefore, a not insignificant one ; and 
the smooth road southward alongside that shore to Piermont offers as pleas- 
ant a three-mile spin as wheelman's heart can wish for. Thence he must 
turn inland to Sparkill (ij m.), Tappan (li m.), Closter (4m.), Tenafly (4 m.) 
and Englewood (2J m.), and be content to do most of his riding — and a 
good deal of walking— on the side-paths of rather sandy and hilly roads. 
It took me four hours to cover the thirteen miles, on the 26th of May, 1882, 
when the track was probably in average condition ; though the bright spring 
weather made even slow progress a pleasure (if, indeed, it did not invite me 
to be slow), and I stopped a good while to stare at the sunken-roofed stone 
house near the hotel in Tappan, where the luckless Major Andr§ was jailed, 
a century ago, before being executed, on the adjacent eminence, which has 


since carried the name of Gallows Hill, and which must reach pretty close 
to the State line of New Jersey. A macadamized road connects Englewood 
with Fort Lee (5 m.)) whence ferry boat may be taken across to 130th st , 
just a short distance from the Boulevard. I have tried this route in the 
opposite direction only. Walking up-hill for a half-mile from the dock 
(though most or all of this might be ridden), I mounted at the fork in the 
road, and went without stop for two miles, to a point beyond the great 
Palisades Hotel, since burned, — ^whence a broad roadway stretches in a 
straight line to Englewood (2^ m.). The last half of this may be coasted, 
but I should think the ascent could hardly be made without a stop. 

The obstacle which forces the tourist coming down the west side of the 
Hudson to turn inland at Piermont is the Palisades, " which is a name ap- 
plied to a long, perpendicular, apparently columnar wall that extends in an 
unbroken line thither from Fort Lee (20 m.), rising directly from the water's 
edge. This wall is nearly uniform in altitude for the greater part of the dis- 
tance, though it varies from 300 to 500 feet in height ; but it is narrow, being 
in some places not more than three-quarters of a mile wide. Its top is singu- 
larly even, affording a long, narrow table-land, upon which there is a scant 
growth of trees. The air is salubrious and the prospects are superb, — the 
opposite low verdant shore, for a long distance to the north, affording a 
charming picture."^ From the site of the burned hotel, a dirt road extends 
northward through the woods of this remarkable ridge to Alpine (5 m.) op- 
posite Yonkers, which may be reached by ferry ; and the map shows the path 
prolonged even to Piermont; but I presume that the bicycler who tried it 
would do more walking than riding. The descent to Fort Lee had better not 
be coasted in summer time, on account of the crowds which frequent the hotel 
there. Southward from Fort Lee one may ride along the shore without stop 
for nearly two miles, when he may turn up the hill at Edgewater ; or he may 
continue along it for another mile to Shady Side, where he has a second 
diance to ascend ; or he may ride still another two miles to Weehawken, and 
there walk up the hill. This is opposite 59th St., though the ferry boat runs 
to 42d St., and Fort Lee is opposite 155th st., though its ferry, in like manner, 
lands the passenger a half-mile lower down. By good luck, the five miles 
may be ridden in either direction without stop, but the last half of the road 
has little to recommend it ; and, as its surface and surroundings increase in 
badness the nearer one gets to Weehawken, the southward-bound traveler 
woold do well to climb the hill either at Edgewater or Shady Side. 

It is a quarter-mile walk from the river-road to the crest of the hill at 
Edgewater, whence a fine view may be had of the city ; and one may ride south- 
ward from there, by Builds Head Ferry av., past Guttenberg (2 m.) and the 
great water-tower (i^ m.), without stop, to the foot of the hill (i m.) where the 
m^^/iam gives place to Belgian blocks. On these, or on the flagstones of the 

i"Apiiletons' Dicdonary of N«w York,** p. 166. 


sidewalks, he may thence work his way to Hoboken Ferry (3 m.), unless he 
prefer to take one of the horse-cars which will be within his reach soon after 
passing the tower. The ferry marks the terminus of one of the great railway 
lines (always called " the D., L. and W.,'* from the initials of its very long 
name), and its boats will take a man either directly across to Christopher si^ 
hardly more than half-a-mile from Washington Square, or down to Barclay st, 
somewhat less than that distance from the City Hall. Taylor's Hotel, in 
Jersey City, a well-known landmark, stands at the entrance to Jersey City 
Ferry, which is the terminus of the Pennsylvania railway, and its boats land 
both at Cortlandt st., immediately opposite (four blocks below Barclay st), 
and at Desbrosses St., which is three-quarters of a mile above, and a half-mile 
below Christopher st. Communipaw Ferry, the terminus of the Jersey 
Central railway, is three-quarters of a mile below Taylor's Hotel, and lands 
all its passengers at Liberty st, the next below Cortlandt st. Three-quartere 
of a mile above Taylor's Hotel, and a half-mile below Hoboken Ferry, is 
Pavonia Ferry, the terminus of the Erie railway, whose boats land both at 
Chambers st. (four blocks above Barclay st.) and at 23d St., two miles above. 
The distances mentioned as separating the ferries on the Jersey side are 
much shorter than those the traveler would in fact be forced to traverse, in 
going from one to the other, for there is no street which directly connects 
them anywhere near the water-front. In getting from Hoboken to Taylor's 
Hotel, for example (May 26, '82), I wheeled more than two miles,-^much of it 
on the sidewalks (for flagstone walks are abundant enough in all these squalid 
suburbs), though I found one main road fairly ridable. I once tried a western 
route from the hotel (Nov. 16, '80), by turning into Grand St., and then, at a 
point 2\ m. from the ferry, taking the plank road for 3 m. alongside the canal 
and across the marshes between the Hackensack and Passaic rivers. This 
brought me to a disagreeable suburb of Newark which I believe is called 
Marion, and I then wheeled on the sidewalks, or else went afoot for nearly 
3 m., until I reached the smooth pavement at the head of Central av. My 
usual route to that point from the New York ferries, however, seems far 
preferable to the one just given, and I thus described it in TJu IVhteiman 
(June, 1883, p. 219) : "The road leading up Bergen hill, near the tunnels, may 
be reached by wheeling on the stone sidewalks, — the distance being a mile 
from Hoboken Ferry, and somewhat greater from the lower ferries. From 
the top of the hill to the bridge over the Hackensack (1} m.), there is side- 
walk riding, mostly on a down grade, requiring only a few dismounts ; and 
then the wheelman may go without stop across the marshes (3^ m.), on a 
macadamized roadway, though this is sometimes made rather difficult by 
mud and ruts. Another mile or so of sidewalk riding, in a perfectly straight 
line, leads to the bridge over the Passaic, which, for the sake of convenience 
in description, I have previously assumed as 'the apex of the eight-mile 
Newark-and-Orange triangle,* or as the imaginary point of junction of the 
chief avenues belonging to that 'triangle,-" I might better have placed my 


imaginary point an eighth of a mile west of the river, however, where Bridge 
St enters Broad st, for the corner building, in the northeast angle between 
them, contains Oraton Hall, the " Z. & S." headquarters of the New Jersey 
wheelmen ; and as the tourist may there find the latest news as to roads and 
routes, he would do well to reckon distances from it as a chief objective point. 

Returning from that point, by the route just given, to the top of Bergen 
hill (6 m.), he may there turn northward and try the sidewalks for 2 m. in a 
straight line (passing the reservoir on his right, \ m. from the start) ; but the 
road in the course of another mile bends westward down the hill to Home- 
stead station, and then crosses the marshes to Carlstadt (5 m.), — ^and [ know 
nothing of its character. At the specified distance above the reservoir,— or 
at considerably less distance,^-one may go eastward j^ m., by the cross streets, 
until he reaches Palisades av., near the edge of the ridge, whose sidewalks 
are ridable in a bee-line for 2} m., affording the tourist an excellent panorama 
of the great city on the opposite shore. The old turnpike from Hoboken to 
Hackensack crosses the head of this avenue, \ m. above the Monastery 
(whose sightly position, on the heights opposite 27th st., makes it a prominent 
landmark for many miles around) ; and the street which is just behind the 
Monastery forms the eastern front of the reservoir, exactly two miles below. 
At the north end of Palisades av., the tourist should .turn east for \ m., until 
he reaches the south end of Bull's Head Ferry av., about \ m. below the big 
brick water-tower before described. If he wishes to go to Hoboken, he may 
cither descend northward to the horse-car tracks, and then continue his 
descent southward by the route already given (p. 81), or he may keep right 
along eastward and southward by the old Hackensack pike. Assuming his 
wish to continue northward, however, his first chance to descend to the river 
level will be at J m. above the water-tower (half way between it and Gutten- 
berg), where a rough and winding road, which must be walked in either 
direction, connects the avenue with Weehawken Ferry. This is the terminus 
o£ the West Shore railway, whose boats go to 42d St., and the rocky excava- 
tions of whose tunnel are noticed by the tourist a little to the north of the 
water-tower. I recommend him, however, to keep right up the hill, through 
Guttenberg, and then (J m. beyond, where a chance offers of going down to the 
river) to turn westward \ m., and northward \ m., to the little bridge over 
the ravine, where he may descend southward to Shady Side (J m.), or con- 
tinue northward to Edgewater and Fort Lee (ferry to 130th St.). The stretch 
of 7 m. from the upper end of Palisades av. to this terminal point, could 
probably be covered, by a good rider, without leaving the saddle. 

The best wheeling in all that region, however, is offered by the Bergen Line 
Boulevard, a broad macadamized roadway, 2\ m. long, lying nearly parallel to 
the Bull's Head Ferry av., and \ m. west of it. Blacque's Hotel, and Nun- 
gesser's, two well-known road-houses, face each other at the head of the 
Boulevard, and they stand on a line drawn due west from 95th st. Their dis- 
tance from the ravine-bridge on the hill behind Shady Side is just a mile. 


and, though the route has two or three turnings, it is not likely to be mistaken. 
The macadam terminates where the Boulevard crosses the West Shore 
tunnel ; and though the tourist may continue straight along, on the sidewalks, 
to the Hackensack turnpike (} m.), and thence to Palisades av. {\ m.), I rec- 
ommend him to turn off at Fulton st^ \ m. from the tunnel, and ride across 
to the water tower, \ m. Rumors have reached me of a plan to prolong the 
macadam of the Boulevard to Bergen Point, a dozen miles below the tunnel ; 
but I do not expect that so magnificent a scheme will be realized in m.y life- 
time. The map shows a series of parallel streets extending all the way from 
the Point (which is separated from Port Richmond, on Staten Island, by only 
\ m., of the Kill van KuU's waters) to the cross-roads on Bergen hill, 7 m. 
above, where my own explorations have ended. Much of this neck of land 
between Newark bay and New York bay is less than a mile wide, and all of 
it seems to be hilly, and to exhibit a rather poor class of houses. Wheeling 
there would presumably not be pleasant, but I mean to attempt it, some time, 
in connection with another visit to Staten Island. 

From Blacque's Hotel, at the head of the Boulevard, one may go northwest- 
ward, over a course which is often too rough to be ridable, to Fairview (ij m.), 
a gentle grade towards the end turning off sharply into a steep descent At 
the foot of this, he may turn northwestward again, by Hackensack pike, for 
the Club House at Ridgefield (i m.), whence two northwest roads (rather 
sandy, the one nearer the railway being preferable) lead to Englewood (5 m.). 
From there he may return to Fort Lee, along the macadamized route already 
described (p. 81). Southward from Fairview to the toll-gate at Machpelah 
Cemetery (2 m.), I have found (May 7, '83) the Hackensack road to supply 
pleasant wheeling, with one easy hill ; but as appearances below were less 
favorable, I turned about, for i m., and then ascended by a macadamized 
cross-road to the Boulevard, \ m. to the east, — ^passing another parallel road, 
midway between the two. The distance from the cemetery, by the Hacken- 
sack pike, to the head of Palisades av., is about 2 m., and two roads branch 
off from it to Homestead, whence the thoroughfare distinguished by telegraph 
poles stretches across the marshes to the hills at Carlstadt (5 m.), as before 
described. Other routes connecting Newark with New York (at 130th st 
ferry : by way of Belleville, Carlstadt and Ridgefield ; by way of Little Falls, 
Paterson, Hackensack and Ridgefield ; and by way of Paterson and Engle- 
wood,) are described in my thirteenth chapter, "Coasting on the Jersey 
Hills " ; and the latter might perhaps be recommended as supplying the best 
connection with Boonton, or even Morristown, — leaving Newark entirely 
aside, in favor of Singac, Fairfield and Pine Brook. 

My descriptions have doubtless made this fact plain : that the proper 
entrance to Manhattan Island for every touring wheelman from the south or 
west, who wishes to ride there, or to prolong his journey to the north or east, 
is at 130th St. (ferry from Fort Lee), instead of at the down-town ferries con- 
nected with the termini of the five great railway lines. My recommendation 


to a cycler who may be brought by train to any one of the four below 
Weekawken, is to push westward With his wheel to the top of Bergen hill, or 
else, as a second choice, to try one of the two specified ascents above 
Hoboken, and thence face northward to Fort Lee. The stranger, however, 
may readily utilize the ferries to shorten the northward wheeling distance, 
and at the same time give himself a chance to watch the river traffic. Thus, 
if he leaves the Jersey Central train, down opposite the Battery, its boat will 
land him at Liberty st., one block above which he can take the Pennsylvania 
road's boat back to Taylor's Hotel, and its other boat across again to 
Desbrosses st- Four blocks above this, and \ m. below Christopher st., is 
the starting point of a line of steamboats for Fort Lee ; and as these also 
make a landing near the foot of 23d st., the traveler who comes in by Erie 
train may sail all the way to 130th st., and disembark there after only two 
changes of boats. Those who disembark from the down-town boats oif the 
other three railways, at Liberty St., Cortlandt st. or Barclay st., need walk less 
than half a mile to reach the Erie boat at Chambers St., which will take them 
back across the river to the other Erie boat for 23d st. ; and, in like manner, 
the D., L. & W. boat up to Hoboken may be taken at Barclay st. by passen- 
gers from the other three railways, who prefer this double passage of the 
river, with a little walking on the New York side, to the task of pushing a 
bicycle two or three miles on the sidewalks and back-streets of Jersey City. 

Along this two miles of river front, from " Pier i " at the Battery to 
" Pier 51 " at Christopher st., the docks are continuous, and serve as points of 
departure for nearly all the ocean steamers, as well as for a great number 
of others which ply to points on the Sound, the rivers and the sea coast. The 
famous *• floating palaces " for Albany and Troy at the north, for New Lon- 
don, Stonington, Providence and Fall River at the east, all start within \ m. 
of Desbrosses st. ; and the three last-named lines, which conduct an immense 
passenger traffic with Boston, start within less than \ m. of the City Hall. 
The connection between all these docks and piers and ferry-houses is West 
St., which extends in front of them, its inner side alone being solidly lined 
with buildings ; and South st. performs a similar service for the two miles of 
docks which stretch upwards from the Battery along the east side, the great 
Brooklyn Bridge being suspended over them at about the half-way point. 
Each of these streets is poorly paved and is usually crowded with heavy 
traffic, so that the horse-cars of the east-side and west-side Belt lines make 
slow progress through them, and are often delayed by ** blocking." The lines 
take their name from the fact that, starting at the Battery, they keep quite 
near the opposite edges of the island, until they join each other again at SQth 
St., the lower border of Central Park. The east-side Belt runs through A v. 
D to 14th St., through Av. A to 23d St., and through ist av. to 59th St., while 
the west-side Belt runs through loth av., which is a prolongation of West st. 
above 14th st. T believe these lines are the only ones in the city which are 
chartered to transport baggage as well as passengers ; and the bicycler may 


always be sure that, for a fee of 5 or lo cents, he can get .his wheel carried, 
on the front platform of a Belt car, to the point on 59th st. where he may at 
once touch the macadamized roads to the northward, either at 8th av., at 5th 
av., or at Av. A. On the other lines, I presume that a quarter-dollar, or per- 
haps a smaller perquisite, would quiet any scruples which the commander of 
the car might have about admitting a bicycle to the platform, when no passen- 
gers were crowding it. I recollect that no objection was made when I brought 
my machine down from 11 6th st. to 59th St., on an 8th ay. car; though I was 
then able to pack it in smaller compass than usual, on account of having 
broken it in two. On general principles, I should caution a stranger against 
hiring a city expressman to transport his wheel, unless he is content to see it 
put up at sheriffs sale, to pay for " charges." Perhaps even then he would 
have to go to Ludlow Street Jail, until his friends at home could raise the 
cash balance still due to the honest carrier. 

The keepers of the railway baggage-rooms in the ferry-houses will give 
an official receipt (brass check) for a bicycle left in their charge, but " their 
charge " will be a quarter-dollar, when it is redeemed. Such storage-places, 
in addition to their safety, and their convenience to a man who wishes to go 
about the city a little before taking his wheel up to 130th st. by the river 
ferries, or to 59th st. by Belt car, have the special merit of being accessible at 
all hours of the night as well as of the day. A tourist entering the city dur- 
ing business hours (8 A. M. to 6 p. m.), at any of the designated ferries between 
Liberty st. and Chambers st., will always be welcomed to temporary storage 
for his wheel at the office of the Pope Manufacturing Co., 12 Warren st., 
which is next south of Chambers St., and which extends from the river to 
the City Hall Park at Broadway, \ m. At the entrance of its salesroom may 
be seen the old original " Columbia No. 234 " (as explained on p. 48), making 
a mute appeal for " 1,000 more supporters " for this present true history of its 
strange life and adventures. Second only in importance to my remarkable 
bicycle, there stands hard by another unique object, which has helped it to 
give celebrity to the city: I mean the great structure spanning the East 
River,— "the largest bridge in the world,"— whose terminus is just across 
the park. The length of the bridge considerably exceeds a mile (5,989 ft.), 
and its breadth (85 ft.) allows a central promenade (13 ft.) for foot passengers, 
two railroad tracks on which run passenger-cars propelled by a stationary 
engine at the Brooklyn end, and two broad roadways for vehicles, on the 
outer sides. The central span across the water, hung from towers whose tops 
(measuring 120 ft. by 40 ft.) are 278 ft. above its surface, is 1,595 feet long; 
the span on each side, from the tower to the anchorage, is 930 feet long ; the 
approach from the terminus to the anchorage is 1,562^ ft, long on the city 
side and 971 ft. on the Brooklyn side ; the height of the floor, at the towers, 
above high-water mark, is 1 19^ ft. and it increases thence to the center where 
it is 135 ft. above. The Brooklyn terminus is 68 ft. above high tide. The 
grade of the roadway is 3^ ft. in 100 ft.; and its material is stone blocks along 


the approaches, and transverse planks in the center. Construction began 
January 2, 1870, and the bridge was opened May 24, 1883. ^^^ cost has ex- 
ceeded $1 5,000,00a* 

The only time that I ever honored this celebrated structure by driving 
"No. 234" across it, was on March 25, 1884, when I felt constrained to do 
something extraordinary by way of celebrating my wheel's happy escape from 
beneath the heavy hand of the United States Government, and by way of 
compensating it for the ignominy of a week's enforced association with the 
underlings of the custom-house. As all eastward-bound vehicles cross in the 
south roadway of the bridge, and all westward-bound ones in the north road- 
way, there is no chance for collision, and the path is wide enough to allow 
a bicycler to ride past a team which may be moving too slowly. He himself 
will probably prefer to move rather slowly, however, both in order that he 
may better enjoy the view, and because the surface is not favorable to rapid 
riding, — to say nothing of the upward half of the grade. Perhaps the southern 
roadway affords the rider a finer outlook, though the views on both sides the 
bridge are wonderfully attractive, and no visitor to the city should miss the 
enjoyment of them. The pedestrians* promenade in the center, having an 
unobstructed outlook in both directions, may be recommended as the prefer- 
able place for the sight-seer ; and caution may be offered against the gratings 
in the stone-paved approaches of the bridge, as liable to entrap the tires of a 
bicycle. The boats of Fulton Ferry start just below the bridge-tower on the 
Brooklyn side, — ^though they are \ m. below the tower on the New York 
side,— and in each city they start from the terminus of a thoroughfare called 
Fulton St. The other terminus of this, in New York, at West St., is within 
two blocks of the ferries at Cortlandt st. and Barclay st. (} m.); but a tourist 
who enters the island at either of those points and wishes to take ferry to 
Brooklyn, is recommended to trundle his wheel down Broadway to Trinity 
Church, and thence through the famous " gold-mine " which it faces, to Wall 
Street Ferry, whose boat will land him at the foot of Montague st. Walking 
to the top of the hill, 30 or 40 rods, he may wheel thence without dismount, 
mostly on asphalt, to the entrance to Prospect Park (2I m.), which is the 
object that all New Yorkers have in view, whenever they go to Brooklyn. 

The distinguishing section of this route is supplied by Schermerhorn st., 
an asphalt stretch of f m., included between Flatbush av., from which it 
starts diagonally, and Clinton St., which terminates it at right angles ; and this 
terminus is the point towards which wheelmen's routes converge from all the 
lower ferries of Brooklyn. Thus, from the Wall Street Ferry, the rider 
should go \ m. on Montague st. and then turn right for \ m. on Clinton St., to 
reach the point in question. From South Ferry, he should go \ m. on the 
Belgian blocks of Atlantic st., then turn left into Henry st. (which is paral- 
lel to Clinton St., and, like it, stretches straight southward from Fulton st. to 

"Appletons* Dictionary of New York,*' p. 79. 


Gowanus Bay, i^ m.), then right, into Joralemon st^ then right, into Clinton 
St. From Hamilton Ferry (which is considerably further south, though its 
New York landing is at the Battery, close to South Ferry), he should go 
through Hamilton av. to Union st. and then to Henry St., where his route will 
be the same as before given, — the whole distance being asphalt except a few 
rods of stone at the ferry. From Fulton Ferry he should walk up the hill, 
one block to the right, to Columbia Heights, upon whose broad western side- 
walk he may wheel \ m. without dismount, to Montague st. This same route 
should also be taken by passengers from Catharine Street Ferry, and it may 
be taken by passenger who comes over the Bridge, — though in each case 
there will be need of a preliminary \ m. of sidewalk business. A more 
direct route from the Bridge terminus is to follow the sidewalk of Fulton st. 
for \ m., until Clinton st. is met, branching off diagonally to the right ; or 
else to reach Henry st. by going a few rods along any one of the side streets 
which branch off to the west from Fulton st. 

It will appear from the foregoing that a tourist who lands in New York 
at any of the ferries on West st., and who prefei-s (instead of visiting Wall 
St., as suggested) to follow that same street down to the Battery (either on 
foot, or in a Belt car), may there begin a long or short sail across to landings 
in Brooklyn, which are almost directly connected with the asphalt pave- 
ments, that reach without break to Schermerhorn st. The Battery is 
also the starting point of the ferry boats for Staten Island. Brook- 
lyn, however, by means of the so-called annex boats, which start from Ful- 
ton Ferry, has direct water communication 'with all the railway termini 
on the Jersey side of the Hudson; and the traveler from the south or west 
. is thus enabled to reach Long Island without setting foot in the city at all. 
Assuming him now to be at the head of Schermerhorn st., whatever route may 
have brought him there, I remark that its asphalt usually has holes enough 
to demand careful riding, and that the act of getting over the horse-car tracks, 
at several of the cross streets, is sometimes rather troublesome. Belgian 
blocks, of easily ridable surface, will be found on Flatbush av., where one 
leaves Schermerhorn st., and also between 7th av. and the Park terminus ; 
but most of its south-side pavement is asphalt, as far as 7th av., down which 
(or down 6th av.) one may continue on asphalt to Lincoln pi., or to Berke- 
ley pi., and then ride up the hill, still on asphalt, by either of those parallel 
streets, to the stone-paved circle, known as the Plaza, which forms the 
entrance to Prospect Park,— i m. from the end of Schermerhorn st. The 
most direct route from Fulton Ferry to that point is through Fulton st. and 
Flatbush av. (ij m.); and a stranger who may have any curiosity to see the 
City Hall, or the shops of the chief business thoroughfare, can trundle his 
wheel in that direction and occasionally improve a chance for riding it on the 
sidewalk flags or the Belgian blocks of the roadway. The United States 
Navy Yard may be entered at the City Park, which is less than i m. from the 
City Hall, and which may be reached more directly by going through Sands 


st^ at the terminus of the Bridge. The Naval Hospital is near the other ex- 
tremity of the government grounds, i m. east of the City Park, and with- 
in ^ m. of Bedford av., which is an important thoroughfare (mostly of asphalt 
surface), beginning at Division av. (J m. from the ferries leading to Grand st. 
and Roosevelt st. in New York), and stretching thence southward, 2^ m., to the 
Eastern Boulevard, at a point f m. west of the end of its macadam, and 1} m. 
east of its beginning, at the stone-paved Plaza before Prospect Park. 

The area of ground contained in this is 550 acres, and purchase was 
made in June, 1866, for $5,000,000. The lake covers 6i acres, and is over- 
looked by the "carriage concourse" (186 feet above the ocean-level, but 
easily accessible by bicycle), whence a fine view may be had. The " drives " 
for carriages extend over a distance of 8 m., there are 3^ m. of bridle-road, 
and II m. of pedestrian pathways and rambles, lined with fine old trees, and 
amply supplied with drinking fountains, arbors and rustic seats. ^ Nearly all 
the walks afford a good wheeling surface of concrete or else hardened gravel ; 
and the bicycler may well disport himself upon them for two or three hours, 
in a leisurely exploration of all their various turns and windings; for no 
restriction has ever been put upon such use of the walks, since the earliest 
recorded days of Brooklyn bicycling in '79. But, if he wishes to treat the 
central walk of the park as a thoroughfare for reaching the lower entrance, 
he will find the distance thither to be 2 m., divided about midway by ** the 
gardens," where he will have to dismount and take his wheel down the 
steps and across the road ; and he is advised to dismount also at the next 
crossing. Entrance is made to " the gardens " on an up-grade, from under 
an arch; and a turn up-hill to the right will take one to the "concourse" 
before named, while a turn to the left will lead across the road without the 
necessity of climbing down any steps. Still a fourth route may be taken at 
" the gardens " by going down the steps towards the lake, and following the 
path which skirts it : finally crossing the " west drive " and taking a path 
down to the park entrance, just opposite the end of the more direct path. 

From this southern entrance or exit of the park, there stretches the Bou- 
levard—officially termed the Ocean Parkway, 200 ft. wide and 6 m, long — 
directly down to the ocean beach of Coney Island. After a short westward 
turn from the entrance, it extends due south, though there is one broad angle 
near the end which causes a variation from a perfectly straight line. The 
broad central roadway of the Boulevard is separated from the narrower road- 
ways on each side, by sidewalks shaded with double rows of trees, and it can 
be ridden in either direction without dismount, at almost any time between 
March and December, though the condition of its surface greatly varies 
with the seasons. It is often thronged with pleasure vehicles (especially its 
northern half), and it witnesses a great deal of fast driving and racing, — 
stones, marking \ m., being prominently placed along its west side, for the 

l"AppletoDs' Dictionary of New York,'' p. 46, somewhat altered. 


benefit of those who wish to time themselves. The grades are unimportant^ 
though they sometimes call a halt when the surface is muddy, or when the 
road-master's roller has been too long absent. At the ocean side, one may 
comfortably wheel, on concrete or plank walks, to Vanderveer's Hotel, on 
the west (open all the year round), or to the more fashionable Brighton and 
Manhattan hotels on the east, which are open only from June to October. 
During that interval, the return may be made to New York or Brookljm by 
various lines of steamboats and railway cars ; but the man who wheels back 
must simply retrace his outward course, — ^though the map shows a highway 
stretching through Gravesend, New Utrecht, Fort Hamilton and Bay Ridge 
to the west side of Greenwood Cemetery, whose eastern border is quite near 
the southern entrance to Prospect Park. 

Two miles east of its northern entrance, where the macadam of the Bou- 
levard ends, the tourist may turn to the left, and then proceed northeastward, 
by rather rough road to East New York (i m.), where he will strike what is 
called the Jamaica plank road (though its surface is mostly rough and rutty 
macadam, rather than planks) ; whose first toll-gate is met in about i m., and 
the second one in } m. This is just 3 m. from the end of the Boulevard (as 
measured by me July 30, *8o, and April 7, '84), and on the latter date I had 
an excellent spin for about 2\ m., or until I passed under the railway. Ja- 
maica is about 2 m. beyond this ; but I only proceeded half that distance 
before turning off into the Hoffman Boulevard, a sandy and hilly thorough- 
fare, much of it unridable, which extends northward to Newtown, 4^ m. 
Macadam stretches thence westward through Winfield, and up a steep hill 
which I was barely able to ride (July 13, 1880), for almost 2m.; followed by 
i^ m. of poor sidewalks, to Queens County Court House, and then i m. of 
smooth flagstones, to Hunter's Point Ferry. This route from Newtown may 
be varied by turning northward from the macadam, \ m. after crossing the 
railroad at Winfield, and going i m. more by a somewhat winding course to 
" Dickinson's " a well-known cross-roads tavern, and thence z\ m. to Astoria 
Ferry, which is the northernmost connection between Long Island and New 
York. Its opposite landing is at 92d St., just above BlackwelPs Island, but 
its boats also make a half-dozen passages daily down to Beekman st, adjoin- 
ing Fulton Ferry, 6m. below. My earliest printed road-report describes a 
ride from Astoria Ferry (Aug. 29, '79), " northward, along the flags of the 
sidewalk, for about \ m., till the macadam is reached at the top of a hill by 
a church, — on Trafford St., I think. Thence a down-grade leads to the shore 
road, which is excellent for more than a mile, though a short, rough hill re- 
quires a single dismount. The view of the Sound just above Hell Gate is 
before the rider all the while, and is a very pretty one. Afterwards, at the 
street whose terminus is just south of the ferry, beside the bridge over Suns- 
wick Creek, and whose name I think is Broadway, I rode due east on the dirt 
and flag sidewalks for i m. or more. By turning left, I might thei> "have 
reached the direct road for Flushing, which I tried on a return journey some 


time later ; but I should recommend the tourist thither to go to the end of the 
shore road, before described, and there turn inland to meet the Flushing road, 
at a point 2 m. from the ferry. His own route to that point will thus be 4 m., 
and though I am unacquainted with the latter half of it, I am sure it cannot 
be more disagreeable than the 2 m. of direct road. The southward route 
from the bridge at the ferry, which I crossed on foot, allows riding on the 
flag-«tones I m. without dismount, to the post office at Ravenswood, and 
then I m. more without dismount to the ferry at Hunter's Point." 

This ferry lands nearly opposite, at 34th st., also at 7th st. (i^ m. due 
east from Washington Square), and at James Slip, which is the third pier 
above the tower of the big bridge. Next below James st. is Roosevelt St., by 
whose ferry a return may be made up the river to the Broadway Ferry, 
Brooklyn, which is within \ m. of the asphalt of Bedford av., as before 
described ; or the Brooklyn side may be reached near the Bridge, by taking 
ferry at foot of Catherine st., which is second above James st. The Broad- 
way Ferry connects Broadway, Brooklyn, with Grand St., N. Y., which is an 
important thoroughfare stretching westward across the island to Desbrosses 
St., whose ferry is 2\ m. distant, and may be reached directly by horse-car. In 
New York, the ferry takes its name from Grand st., and some of its boats go 
to Grand st. in Brooklyn, \ m. north of the Broadway landing, and just south 
of the ferry to Houston St., N. Y. This is also an important thoroughfare, 
through which the tourist may trundle his bicycle i m. to Broadway, and then 
a similar distance to West St., \ m. below Hoboken Ferry. At the east 
end of Grand st., and very near the east end of Houston st., one may take a 
" green " car which runs to the Weehawken Ferry, at 42d st., crossing 5th 
av. at Broadway and 23d st. From the foot of 23d st., J m. east of this cross- 
ing, another ferry may be taken to Greenpoint av., Brooklyn, which is i m. 
below the ferry at Hunter's Point, and a similar distance above the one at 
Grand st. This Greenpoint Ferry also sends boats to loth st., i^ m. east of 
Washington Square. The boats between Astoria and Beekman st. make a 
stop at Greenpoint av., or very near it; but the excursion steamers to Flush- 
ing, Roslyn, Glen Island and other places on the Sound, rarely land on the 
east side at any point above Fulton Ferry, though they take New York passen- 
gers at or near Grand st., loth st., 23d st. and 34th st. At Glen Island there 
are extensive sidewalks of concrete ; and the tourist may thence easily cross 
to the macadamized roadway of the mainland, at New Rochelle, and either 
wheel directly back to Harlem Bridge, or else proceed to Port Chester and 
Tarry town, by routes given on pp. 73-76. Newtown Creek is just below Hun- 
ter's Point ; and the interval between there and the asphalt of Bedford av. 
(3 m.) contains no better pavement than Belgian, while sidewalk-riding 
presumably requires a dismount at every curb, — though two lines of horse 
cars are available for the journey. What were formerly the villages of Green- 
point and Williamsburg are now combined to form Brooklyn's ** Eastern Dis- 
trict" (abbreviated to E. D., for postal purposes), and its only building 



prominent enough to serve as a landmark is the Williamsburg Savings Bank, 
whose dome can be seen from quite a distance. It may serve to pilot the 
wheelman to the head of Bedford av., \ m. south and west. A fountain marks 
the head of the avenue, whence one may go on the Belgian pavement of 4th 
St. four blocks to Broadway, and thence four blocks to the ferry. 

Prospect Park, in Brooklyn, seems alwa3rs to have been managed by men 
of intelligence, whose governing motive has been to make it as pleasant a 
resort as possible for all classes of citizens ; instead of a red-tape lab3rrinth for 
the exhibition of " rules," or a piece of political plunder whose "patronage" 
might help their own personal aggrandizement. Hence, though it is some- 
what illogical in the managers to welcome cyclers to the walks (where wheels 
do not properly belong) and to exclude them from the macadamized roadways 
(where they by right ought to be, with the other pleasure carriages), their 
mistake is one of judgment, and it causes little practical inconvenience. They 
were quick, at the very outset, to recognize bicycling as an attractive and 
gentlemanly pastime, well-worthy of their approval and encouragement ; and 
their rules concerning it, however unwise they may be in fact, or unjust in 
theory — were based upon that friendly belief, and not upon stupidity, nor 
perversity nor narrow-minded ill-will. The Park Commissioners of New York, 
on the other hand, seem to be a rather ignorant and dull-witted set of people, 
whose quarrels and " dead-locks " over the great question, " How to make * a 
fair divvy * of the patronage ? " have been for years one of the minor scandals of 
metropK>Iitan government. The average intellectual caliber of men who let a 
magnificent popular pleasure-ground fall into decay while they, its appointed 
conservators, devote most of their official lives to wrangling over the engage- 
ment of John Smith as gate-tender or the dismissal of John Brown ste cart- 
driver, is evidently not large enough for the easy reception of new ideas. 
Hence comes about the absurdly amusing anachronism that the managers of 
the most famous public park of the most enterprising and novelty-welcoming 
nation on the face of the globe have decided to " write themselves down ** in 
history at the very last end in the list of obstructionists, who will have finally 
been forced to submit to the inevitable and grant wheelmen the simple justice 
of " equal park-privileges " with other citizens. The rulers of Central Park 
may putter and palaver with the plain commands of Fate for a while longer, 
but the ultimate execution of those commands is just as inexorable as if they 
were addressed to people endowed with a better capacity for recognizing 
manifest destiny. 

Nearly six years ago, I printed a half-column letter in one of the city 
dailies,! saying- "The announcement that the Park Commissioners, at their 
yesterday's session, decided * unanimously ' against the admission of bicycles 
to Central Park, though it may seem to the uninitiated like a final settlement 
of the question, in reality only serves to open it. There are at present prob- 

iln TJu Warldy October 27, 1879, fifth page, fourth column. 



ably no more than a dozen or fifteen bicycle riders in the city, and as they are 
naorganized and unacquainted with each other^ it is plain that the * unanimous 
nq^tive ' of the Commissioners was called forth by the petition of only a 
very few individuals. When the number of metropolitan bicyclers increases 
to lOOb as it surely will within twelve months, or to 500, as it probably will 
within two years, their right to share the benefit of the public parks can 
hardly be disputed by any one« When, then, the bicycle riders shall outnum- 
ber the horseback riders, though they may not demand the ' equal justice ' of 
having a like number of roads built for tkdr exclusive use, they will surely 
have influence enough to gain for their wheels the full freedom of rolling 
along the existing roads. * * * After all, however, jt may happen that 
the metropolitan bicyclers of the future will not ride in Central Park. The 
dreadful possibility that I refer to is that the Park of the future may not be a 
fit place for a gentleman to ride in. Certainly, if its paths and other belong- 
ings are allowed to go towards destruction as rapidly in the immediate future 
as they have gone during the brief period since Mr. Frederick Law Olmsted 
was so politely thrown overboard by the revolution of a machine which is 
not a bicycle (I mean the machine called ' city politics *), no bicycler will 
have any inducement to visit it, except it be the mournfully sentimental one 
of gazing upon a magnificent ruin." 

Surreptitious spins on the park paths and roads were occasionally 
indulged in» during i879-'8o, mostly " 'neath the light of the midnight moon,'^ 
by youngish riders who cared less for their own personal dignity than for the 
adventurous " fun " of slipping noiselessly past the drowsy guardians of the 
forbidden domain; but, in the spring of j88i, the clubs of the city united in 
a formaT petition that their just right to enjoy its privileges be recognized. 
A favorable report was made, on the ist of June, by that one of the Park 
Commissioners to whom the matter was referred, as a special committee (S. 
H. Wales, resigned April 4, 1885); but the majority " objected," and so put 
upon the wheelmen the necessity of making a test-case. Accordingly, at about 
9 A. M. of Saturday, July 2, — a forenoon made memorable by the assassin- 
shot fired at President Garfield, — three of their representatives entered the 
park at 6th av. and iioth st.: H. H. Walker, of the Manhattan (aged 33), 
riding a bicycle, and S. C. Foster and W. M. Wright, of the Mercury (aged 
28 and 26 respectively), riding a tricycle. Their arrest quickly followed, as 
by arrangement with the captain of police, and, after the few hours' detention 
needed for the formalities of refusing to pay a $5 fine and of securing a 
release on parole, the long-talked-of suit against the Park Commissioners 
was fairly under way. More than a year later, Judge Lawrence, in Supreme 
Court, Chambers, decided it by saying that he would not interfere with the 
jndgment of the Commissioners, though he made no pretense of defending that 
judgment ; and in March, 1883, the Supreme Court, in full bench, sustained 
this technical decision, " not to grant the petition for a writ of habeas corpus ^'^'^ 

lAn abflCract of this was given in Tht Whttl^ July 19, 1883, p. 173 ; an abstract of the 


Public opinion, as represented by the press, arrayed itself with constantly 
increasing emphasis on the side of the cyclers, during these two years of 
" lawing," however ; and " politics " had meanwhile substituted one or two 
men of modem ideas for the " objectors " of the old-red-sandstone period, in 
the composition of the Board ; so that, when the League voted to have its 
fourth annual parade in New York, permission was graciously granted the 
paraders to wheel through the park. The appearance of 700 of them there 
(May 28, 1883) served still further to fix popular approval, and Commis- 
sioner Viele, in responding to a toast at the evening's banquet ** said that it 
was the first day in many months in which there had been no accidents in the 
park from runaway horses, and showed by the whole tenor of his speech that 
he was in favor of allowing wheelmen all the privileges accorded to horse- 
men." The following week, June 8, the Park Commissioners voted the use 
of the " west drive " of the park {S9th st. at 8th av. to i loth st. at 7th av.), 
between midnight and 9 a. m., to such members of the League as the Pres- 
ident thereof might recommend them to issue passes to, — he consenting to be 
held responsible for the conduct of these favored ones while in the park. The 
privilege was soon extended so as to include the Riverside Drive " except 
between 3 and 7 P. m." ; and the exception, so far as I am aware, wais never 
enforced. In fact, after the first few weeks of the experiment, no proper-ap- 
pearing bicycler was ever asked to show his " certificate," at any hour, on the 
Riverside Drive, — and very rarely was he asked for it when entering the park 
itself before 9 a. m. Last autumn, however, the anger of the authorities was 
aroused somewhat by the sight of numerous " beginners," ununiformed and 
unskilful, wobbling and tumbling about the lower part of the Drive ; and, as 
a remedy, the orders now in force were issued, December 4, 1884. 

These rules ignore the League in favor of the clubs, and substitute for 
the written permit (which the gate-keepers were too lazy to demand a sight 
of) a metal badge (" to be inscribed with the owner's name and worn upon 
the left breast ") of such monster size as to challenge general notice. To 
wearers of these badges, the Riverside Drive and the west drive of the park 
from 59th St. to 72d St., are open at all hours ; and the west drive from 72d 
st to iioth St. is also open from midnight until 9 a. m.; except that tricycles 
are not admitted to the park at all. " Lighted lamps must be carried at 
night ;" and this is also one of the rules of Prospect Park. The rule that 
" badges will be issued only to competent riders, members of regularly organ- 
ized and uniformed clubs, whose captains will be held responsible for the 
conduct of their members," was modified in January so as to include those 
of the unattached who are willing to prove their competency by a display of 

lawyers' speeches, April la, i38a, p. 117; the report of Commissioner Wales, with st^ggested 
rules for bicycling in the park, Feb. 1, 1S82, p. 76 ; Comments of " J. W.'* upon these nilesand 
upon a volume containing 940 pp. of " testimony in the case," Feb. 15, i88a, p. 84. The expenses 
of litigation were borne by the Pope Mfg. Co., of Boston, and amounted to nearly $8,000, as is 
explained, with other details of the case, in their little book, " What and Why,*" pp. 48-50. 



whcelmanship satisfactory to a representative of the Commissioners, " who 
will conduct an examination of candidates, in front of the Arsenal, every 
Friday morning.** 

In process of time, of course, all this tiresome official tomfoolery will be 
thrown overboard in New York, just as all similarly silly devices (for inter- 
fering with the right of cyclers) have already been thrown overboard by every 
other civilized city in the world. No vehicle invented by man ever stood in 
so little need of " regulation ** (to prevent interference with the rights and 
pleasures of others) as does the modem bicycle or tricycle ; and the only 
"rule " about it that needs enforcing in a public park is the same rule that 
most be enforced there concerning every other pleasure-carriage : namely, its 
expulsion from the roads whenever the incompetence or recklessness of its 
driver renders it a public nuisance. The incompetence or recklessness of our 
Park Commissioners has insured to New York the bad eminence of standing 
last on the list of cities whose road-rulers have shown the mental and moral 
strength requisite for grasping this simple truth. The length of the interval 
by which the metropolis of America is destined to lag behind the other great 
capitals of the world, in respect to doing justice to cyclers, may be shortened 
in three ways : (i) by increasing the pressure of public opinion upon the exist- 
ing Commissioners ; (2) by trying to insure the accession of men of modern 
ideas to vacancies in the Board ; (3) by carrying the test-case to the Court of 
Appeals, in order that final judgment may there be pronounced on its merits, 
and on the ultimate authority of the Commissioners, after a presentation of 
arguments by the ablest of lawyers.^ 

** Number 791," on the east side of Fifth Avenue, just opposite the S9th 
St. entrance to Central Park, was the wheelmen's headquarters in the early 

1 Central Park has an area of S40 acres (exclusive of the 15 acres of Manhattan Square and 
the 3^ acres of Morningside Park, which are separated from it by 8th av.) ; and the work of 
creating it oat of a waste of rock and swamp was begun in 1857, — ^the credit for the> landscape 
design of it being doe to Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux. Its length exceeds i\ m. 
by S56 ft., and its breadth is 79 ft. more than \ m. Tlie length of its macadamized carriage- 
waiys or drives, haring an averse width of 54 ft and a maximum width of 60 ft., is about 9 m.; 
the length of the bridle-paths, having an average width of z6i ft., is about 5^ m.; and the 
lei^h of the walks or footpaths, having an average breadth of 13 ft and a maximum breadth of 
40 ft , is about 38^ m. The wooded ground covers about 400 acres, on which have been set out, 
dnoe the opening of the park, more than 500,000 trees, shrubs and vines. The Croton Reser- 
voir, which extends nearly across its entire width, may be considered as separating it into two 
parts,— the part lying above the northern Ime of the reservoir comprising about \ the area of the 
park. Its seven western gates, on 8th av., are at 59th, 72d, 79th, 85th, 96th, looth and xxoth 
sts. ; and the seven eastern gates, on 5th av., are at the same streets, except that 90th takes the 
place of 85th, and load takes the place of looth. The reservoirs have an area of 143 acres, and 
the lakes of the park cover 43 acres additional. A description has already been given of the 
four transverse roads (p. 68) which allow the east<and-west traffic to go on beneath the level of 
the park ; and some statistics of the future may be added, for the sake of completeness, con- 
cerning the six new parks which have been inojected, in and near the annexed district, north of 
the Harlem River : (i) Van Cortlandt Park, just below the Yonkers line, within less than a 
mk of the Hudson River, 1,069 acres; (2) Bronx Park, between West Farms, and William's 


years of metropolitan cycling. A shabby wooden structure there supplied 
shelter for the clubs, whose respective "rooms" were inclose connection 
with the office, salesroom and repair-shop of a bicycle agency, — afterwards 
removed to 59th st The establishment of G. R. Bidwell & Co., on 60th st 
(No. 4), now offers to cyclers in that part of the city all nee4ed facilities for 
repairs or storage. Bicycles and tricycles may there be hired (at 50c. or 75c. 
for an hour — %2 or I3 for a day of twelve hours) for use upon the road ; and 
learners may secure the aid of " a competent instructor of six years' experi- 
ence," in the spacious riding-school on the second floor, which extends across 
the front of Nos. 2 and 4. Below it (No. 2) are the rooms of the Ixion Bicy- 
cle Club, for two years occupied by the Citizens Bicycle Club, whose perma- 
nent home is on 58th st. (No. 313, north side, a few doors west of 8th av.) 
The Wfuel of April 18, 18S4, presented a picture and full description of " this 
first house ever built to be specially and entirely devoted to the use of a bicy- 
cle club," and praised the success of the architect, a club-member, who de- 
signed it. The corner-stone was laid December 27, 1883, and the dedicatory 
reception was given December 3, 1884. The material of the house is brick 
and terra-cotta, and it covers a lot measuring 100 by 20^ ft. In order to have 
legal possession of this important piece of property, the club was incor- 
porated under the laws of the State, August 30, 1883 (though its organization 
dates from June i, 1S82) ; and its printed list of active members in August, 
1884, exhibited 76 names. The rooms of the New York Bicycle Club (organ* 
ized December 18, 1879, and having 41 active members and 7 honorary ones, 
in February, 1885), are in the building at the corner of 57th st. and Broadway 
They have served satisfactorily as headquarters for the past two years ; and 
as the club-janitor is housed in the top story, entrance can be had at any 
hour. The members of this oldest city club are banded together, as a matter 
of business convenience, for riding and touring purposes, — distinctively if not 
exclusively, — and, while not lacking in esprit for the organization as such, 
they do not depend at all for their other social pleasures upon meetings at 
the club-house. A similar characterization may be applied to the Brooklyn 

Bridge, divided by the river, 653 acres ; (3) Crotona Park, below N. 3d and Boston a^s., 135 
acres ; (4) Mary's Park, in Morrisania, about 25 acres ; (5) Claremont Park, about ] m. east 
of High Bridge, 38 acres; (6) Pelham Bay Park, on Long Island Sound, about 1,700 acres. 
With coastal indentations and open water-front, this park will have a shore line o! nine miles ; 
and it is to be connected with Bronx Park and Van Cortlandt Park by a macadamized boule- 
vard. — " Appletons' Dictionary of New York," pp. 50, 348, somewhat altered. 

At the present writing (April 14, 1885) the New Parks Bill, proposed by Mayor Grace, as a 
substitute for the act of 1884, whose provisions are presented above, is pending before the New 
York Legislature. This bill reduces the total area of the six parks fr<»n 3,945 acres to 1,400 
acres,— cutting oflf Pelham Bay Paric entirely, and substituting for it Edgewater Park (33 acres), 
now known as Spofford*s Point and bounded by Edgewater road, Hunter's Pcnnt rood, Farragul 
St. and the shore of the Sound. The bill reduces Van Cortlandt Park to about 750 acres, Brooz- 
Park to about 300 acres, and Crotona Park to 90 acres ; and it limits to $1,000,000 the amount to 
be raised by tax at the outset, whereas the act of 1884 requires the issue of $3,000,000 in botlds. 


Biqrcle Club (organized June 21, 1S79), whose rooms are at 366 Livingston 
iX^ corner of Flatbush av^ one block north of the asphalt of Schermerhorn st. 
The new headquarters of the Long Island Wheelmen (50 members) are i m, 
beyond this, on the corner of Flatbush av. and 9th av., just at the entrance of 
Prospect Park. .The rooms of the Heights Wheelmen (at 159 Montague St., 
north side, about half-way between Henry and Clinton sts., \ m. from the 
ferry), are very generally frequented by the members, as a sort of social 
resort, in much the same way that the Ixion rooms are used, in New York j 
and the Brooklyn Heights Bicyclers,, a boys' club, store their wheels near by, 
at 188 Columbia Heights. In the Eastern District, the rooms of the Bedford 
Cycling Club (organized October 5, 1884, and having about 25 members) are 
at 775 Bedford av.; while at 159 Clymer st., just off from the asphalt of Bed- 
ford av. stands the club-house of the Kings County Wheelmen, a two- 
story structure of brick, newly refitted for its present tenants. Organized 
March 17, 1881, and legally incorporated May 7, 1884, this club has always 
been a very active one in regard to the management of racing and social 
** events " ; and, in respect to the number and enterprising good-fellowship o{ 
its members, it ranks as a sort of east-side counterpart of the Citizens Bicycle 
Club, of New York. Its house is within \ m. of the ferry, and is quite near 
the rooms long occupied by the club at 138 Division av. 

At each and all of these club-quarters, the visiting wheelman is likely to 
find at least a few members waiting to welcome him, on almost any evening; 
and, on Saturday afternoqyis and Sunday. popmings, he will be likely to find 
several ^t them rea^yjfc'^ficorapany hiB| over their favorite roads. If he 
reach the club-rooihsf(4SViAg business hours, when no members are in attend- 
ance, he will usually ^d a janitor in charge, to whose keeping he may safely 
entrust his wheel. A storage room for bicycles may also be found in the 
basement of " the magnificent temple of the New York Athletic Club," on 
the southwest corner of 6th av. and 55th St., though I allude to it chiefly for 
the sake of calling the stranger's attention to the existence of this " finest 
athletic club-house in the world," which cost $300,000, and was taken posses- 
sion of by its members in February, 1885. As regards the rapidit)' with which 
the visitor may make combination of the various ferry-routes which I have 
described (pp. 85, 88,91) as a means of getting around the city, and as regards 
the expensiveness of the process, I may say that the ferries near the foot of 
the island make very frequent passages, and charge a toll of one, two or 
three cents; which is increased to ten cents in the case of the Battery boats 
to Staten Island, the "annex " boats connecting Jersey City with the Brook- 
lyn end of the Bridge, and the East River boats connecting the New York 
end of the Bridge with Astoria and Long Island City (Hunter's Point, oppo-. 
site 34th St.). A tax equal to the toll is exacted against the bicycle on most 
of these routes (Staten Island, I think, is one of the exceptions) ; whereas the 
boats at 130th st. (loc.), 42d st. (5c.) and between Canal st. and Fort Lee 
(15c.) make no charge for the machine, if my own experience represents their 


rule. These up-town ferries, and also the ones running from Astoria^ make 
fewer trips than those in the down-town region, and they stop business for 
the night at an earlier hour. Five cents is the uniform fare on all the horse- 
car lines of the city, on the Broadway stages, and on the elevated railway's 
during six hours of each day (5.30 to 8.30 a. m., and 4.30 to 7.30 p. m.), and 
during the whole of Sunday. During the other eighteen hours of the other 
six days of the week, the fare is ten cents, on all the elevated roads ; and I 
. recommend the visitor to ride the full length of all of them, as the cheapest 
way of exhibiting to himself the magnitude and massiveness of the metropolis. 
I3y starting at the Battery in a train of the so-called 6th av. line (which 
enters that avenue 2 m. above, by the street just below Washington Square, 
and which leaves it at 53d St., continuing thence through 9th and 8th avs. 
to the Harlem River at iSSth st ), the tourist may be carried 10 m. in 
a comfortable and elegant car, whose windows will show him a swiftly-chang- 
ing succession of strange and interesting scenes. So novel and expeditious a 
mode of sight-seeing, at such insignificant a cost as half-a-cent ainile, is no- 
where else offered in the world. From the elevated terminus, the journey 
may be continued by a connecting train across the Harlem to High Bridge, 
Kingsbridge, Yonkers and Tarrytown, through the Nepperhan valley, already 
described (pp. 75, 79) ; and a belated bicycler, who may choose to leave his 
wheel in that region for the night, can therefore get back to the city with but 
slight cost or delay. I advise the explorer on the return trip to change cars 
at 59th St. (which is the station nearest the clubs* headquarters and the south- 
west corner entrance of Central Park), and go thence by the 9th av. line, 
along the west edge of the city, to the terminus at the Battery. He will do 
well, also, to " stop over " for a train or two at i i6th St., the loftiest station 
in the city, for the sake of a more leisurely view of the wide stretch of coun 
try there spread out before him. The concourse of pleasure vehicles which 
may be overlooked here in the afternoon, and the long rows of street lamps 
in the evening, make this station a particularly notable one. It differs ffom 
most in being placed inside the tracks, instead of outside them, — thus en- 
abling a transfer to be made between the trains going in opposite directions, 
without the necessity of an intermediate descent to the street. Such change 
implies the payment of a new fare, however, whereas no extra charge is made 
the traveler for any number of changes between trains going in the same di- 
rection. The 3d av. line leads from the Battery to Chatham Square, thence 
through the Bowery to 8th st. and thence through 3d av. to the terminus at 
129th St., just below Harlem Bridge. This is nearly a mile east of the 
nearest station on 8th av., and, though a horse-car line makes close connec- 
tion, the explorer is advised to walk eastward along 127th st. to the terminus 
of the 2d av. line, and ride back in one of its cars to Chatham Square. This 
route turns away from 2d av. at 23d st. (after allowing its passengers to look 
down upon the tops of four-story houses, and to have extensive views <rf ■ 
East River in the region of Hell Gate), and it connects at the Chatham 



Square terminus with the 3d av. line to the Battery, and also with a short 
line to the City HaJI (entrance to the Bridge). Another transfer may be 
made, without payment of extra fare, along the short line through 34th St., 
connecting both the 3d av. and the 2d av. tracks with the ferry to Hunter's 
Point (Long Island City) ; and still another branch connects the 42d st. sta- 
tion on 3d av. with the Grand Central Depot. After thoroughly exploring 
these remarkable railways (implying, say, about 40 m. of travel, at a cost of 
20c.), I advise the visitor to take a seat beside the driver of an omnibus 
at one of the ferries (either at the Battery, or at Wall St., or at Fulton st.), 
and ride up through Broadway and one of the avenues to the terminus of the 
line (joth st., 42d st., or 47th st.). The station of the United States Army 
Signal Service in the tower of the Equitable Building, at 120 Broadway, is 
the third outlook which I always recommend to the man who wishes to " see " 
New York City. Elevators give free access to the roof; and the views to be 
had there (or from the adjacent spire of Trinity Church, which must be 
dimbed on foot) can be matched nowhere else upon this planet, in respect to 
the vastness and variety of human bustle and activity simultaneously ex- 
hibited upon both land and water. Neither London, nor Paris, nor Liver- 
pool, nor any other one of the world's great ports or capitals, can show any- 
thing at all comparable to it 

•• The County Atlas of Westche«ter»» (New York : J. B. Beers & Co., 36 Vesey st, 187a, pp. 
80, price $10) has proved of great service in the compiUtion of the present report, and I recom- 
meod its study to those who wish to make extensive explorations by wheel in the region de- 
soibed. Its largest map (about 28 inches square, on a scale of 4 dl to the inch, divided by lo-m. 
drdes centering in the New York City Hall) takes in the cities of New Haven, Ct.» Poaghkeep- 
sie, N. Y., Trenton, N. J.» several towns of Pennsylvania, and nearly all of Long Island. The 
other pages measure 14 by 17 inches, and the last 70 of them are given entirely to maps, some of 
which show the entire surface from the Battefy to Tarrytown and beyond, on a scale of 120 rods 
to the inch. The same publishers issue atlases, of similar size and price, for more than 30 other 
counties of the State, and for more than 100 counties in other States, as follows : Maine, a ; Ver- 
mont, 10; Massachusetts, ro; Connecticut, 6 ; New Jersey, 10; Pennsylvania, ai ; Maryland, 
a ; Ohio, 9 ; Kentucky, 5 ; Michigan, 11 ; Missouri, 14 ; Kansas, 7. They also publish pocket- 
maps at the following prices : New York City and surroundings, %\ ; Brooklyn, 3sc. ; Kings 
Coanty (which includes Brooklyn), 50c. ; Long Island, 75c. ; Lake George, $ ; Sullivan and 
Ubter Counties, 50c. ; Rockland and Orange Counties, soc. (the scale of these county charts 
being 2^ m. to the inch, and the site of the sheet about 24 by 18 inches). 

The " Descriptive Catalogue of maps and atlases published by G. W. & C. B. Colton & Co. '* 
(32 pp., fine type, sent free from 182 William St., N. Y.) gives the prices of about 250 mapn, 
covering all sections of the Union, and many foreign countries. I ui^ those who may wish to 
buy large wall>maps, for hanging up in wheelmen's club-rooms, to consult this list ; and I shall 
describe several of its pocket-maps in the foot-notes of my Uter chapters. It is to be understood 
that each map, unless otherwise specified, is printed in colon, on bank-note paper, and folded 
in a doth-bound cover. I heartily recommend to every explorer of the region described in the 
present chapter, Colton's "Westchester County** (issued 1867, revised 1884; scale, i 3-4 m. 
to the inch ; sheet, 29 by 18 in.; price, 75c.), which represents, with perfect deamess, all of my 
routes lying in that county, and also the roads in the southwest comer of Connecticut Another 
adminbie chart for bicyders, on account of its large scale, i-a m. to the inch, is " Staten 
Island** (1884, 32 by 27 m., %i% while "Long Island,** 2 m. to the inch, is also excellent (1873, 



revised 1884, 68 by 32 in., $2.50), though rather unwieldy for pocket um. It shows the road» 
along the whole coast of Connecticut, for 5 m. inland, and also contains a special map of Brook- 
lyn and the lower 5 m. of New York ; so that, mounted, for the wall (#5), it would be an addi- 
tion to any metropolitan club-room. Smaller maps of the island are published at $1.50 (58 by 
27 in.) and 50c. (25 by 12 in.), and separate maps of Brooklyn (37 by 30 in. and 32 by 24 in.) at 
similar prices. " New Vork City " (78 by 32 in.), with hotels and public buildings shown, costs 
$2.50 (mounted, $5); or the lower half of the same (39 by 32 in.), the region below 96th St., 
can be had alone for $1.50; but a better city map for hanging in a club-room is that which 
shows all the country within 15 m. of the City Hall, on a scale of 1-2 m. to the inch (64 by 64 In., 
mounted, $6). A pocket-map on a smaller scale (29 by 26 in.), showing all the country within 
33 m, of the City Hall, and having lo-m. circles reckoned from there, may bi bought for %\ ; and 
another one of the city and suburbs (26 by 19 in.), scale 1-2 m. to the inch, for 50c. Of New 
York State, there are four maps (iS by 14 in., 32 by 29 in., 42 by 38 in. and 74 by 70 in.), costing 
respectively, 50c., ^i, $1.50 and ^10, — the latter being French's toix>graph!cal map, mounted. 
New Jersey has three (i3 by 14 in., 26 by 19 in. and 26 by 35 in.), prices 50c., 75c. and J1.25,— 
the latter being on a scale of 5 m. to the inch, and having its railroad distances shown by space- 
marks signifying miles. A new map of the oorthem half of New Jersey is promised for 1SS6; 
with the adjoining southern counties of New York, and a good part of Westchester county 00 
the east (75c. or ;^i), and its scale of 3 m. to the inch will doubtless make it acceptable. 

Other map-publishers are G. H. Adams & Son, 59 Beekman st., and E. Stciger, 25 Park pi, 
and the offices of all four are quite near the City Hall Park. Facing this, is the newly-opened 
sporting-goods emporium of A. G. Spalding & Bros., 241 Broadway; while the similar extensive 
establishment of Peck & Snyder, at the old-time quarters, 136-130 Nassau st,, b only a few steps 
away. E. I. Horsman's store, 80-82 William St., is about 1-4 m. beyond; and the route 
thither leads past I. Perigo's, 87 Nassau st,, and R. Simpson's, 98 Fuhon st. Wilson's " Busi- 
ness Directory '' presents classified lists of all the trades and professions. Trow*s " City Direc- 
tory," giving the pames, occupations and addresses of the entire fixed population of New York, 
is kept open for the use of the wayfarer at every drug-store ; and, by application at the office of 
any hotel, he may freely consult Mackey's " A. B. C, Guide," or Bullinger's " Counting House 
Monitor,** published weekly and containing the time-tables of the railway and steamboat lines, 
with fares, distances, and other useful information. 

There is one book, however, which the explorer of the metropolis should inevitably buy, and 
carry in his pocket for constant reference. I mean "Appletons' Dictionary of New York," com- 
piled by Townscnd Percy, in 1879, and having new editions in each year since then, " revised to 
the date of issue." It contains 248 pages, compactly printed in double columns of brevier, 
measures 6| by 4I inches, is half-an-inch thick, weighs seven ounces, and is mailed, postpaid, on 
receipt of 30c. by the publishers, D. Appleton & Co., of Bond st. One of its maps, on a scale 
of i^ inches to the mile, shows all the roads of the city to the Yonkers boundary (including those 
of Central Park), wilh the routes of the horse-cars, the elevated railways and the ferries ; another 
map gives the lower 2 m. of the island and a part of Brookl)'u, on a larger scale ; and a third 
map exhibits a section of the region round about, on a scale of 4 m. to the inch. Time-tables 
and fares of all the ferries, locations of the piers, starting-points of all the steamboat and steam- 
shl]> lines, routes of the horse-cars, rates of cabs and hacks, stations of the elevated roads, 
din.xifry of streets, and lists of telegraph-offices, police-stations, theaters, hotels, restaurants, 
chiirrlies, clubs, societies, hospitals, and other institutions, may be mentioned among the nuro- 
berles-i carefully classified bits of statistics, compa(;tly presented, which render this little book 
wnrihv of its big name. It is a genuine pocket-companion, which no visitor can afford to be 
wIlhrKLit, and which will save from three to ten times its cost during e^ery day of his sojourn. 

For the convenience of wheelmen who may desire to have this pretent chapter as a pocket* 
cQiTipanion also, I intend to republish it as a separate pamphlet (to be supplied by mail in return 
for twrinty-five on "-cent <tamps), and I shall prepare for it a special index, giving references not 
only (41 every town and village but also to every street, roa4, ferry, club-houae, hotel and land- 
tnark i)f any sort whose name is mentioned in the text. 




When I finished my 500m. autumn tour, on the last Friday evening of 
last September, by circling round the fountain in Washington Square, the 
old straw hat which had sheltered my head during the journey was " unani- 
mously called in." Mortal eye saw it not again until the early dawn of the 
last Saturday in May, when the dozen bicyclers who rode in the baggage-car 
from Fall River to Boston had the pleasure of inspecting that same historic 
head-gear. By that sign also was my identity revealed to the youth who had 
consented to take a two-days' ride with me, according to my proposal in the 
BL IVorld, and who, after a lo-m. spin from the suburbs, was awaiting my 
arrival in front of the Hotel Brunswick. 

Mounting there at 8.30, we took a 5-m. path to Harvard Square, stop- 
ping a half-hour for breakfast at Carl's, and proceeded through Cambridge, 
Maiden, and Lynn, to Salem, where we tarried from 1.45 to 3 P. M. at the 
Essex House, 26^ m. from the start; thence to Wenham; 4 m., one hour; 
Ipswich, 6 m., | h. ; and Rowley railroad station, 5 m., f h. There we took 
the train to Portsmouth, N. H. ; and after indulging in 4 m. more of wheel- 
ing, in order to visit the Kittery Navy Yard, in the State of Maine, dis- 
mounted for the night at the Rockingham House, at 8.15. The weather of 
the day had been favorable ; for though the clouds threatened in the morning 
and a few rain-drops really fell, the afternoon was bright. The clouds of the 
next morning, however, were not only threatening, but they fulfilled their 
threat. We left Portsmouth at 5 o'clock, and reached the Merrimac Hotel 
in Newburyport, 20 m., at 8.45, in a thoroughly dampened condition, for the 
heavy mist of the early part of the ride definitely turned into rain during the 
last hour. The last 5 or 6 m. comprised the poorest roads encountered on 
the tour, and during the last 2 m. the mud became quite troublesome. Hav- 
ing breakfasted and cleaned our wheels, we had a fire made for the drying of 
our garments, and betook ourselves to reading, as a pleasant way of passing 
the time until the 5 o'clock train should start for Boston. Even when we 
went down to dinner at 1.30, we had no hope of avoiding this inglorious end- 
ing of our excursion, though the rain ceased to fall soon after noon. The 
bright sun, however, soon tempted an examination of the roads, and the ex- 
amination tempted us to risk the mud and start along at 2.45. 

Once clear of the shaded streets of the town, we found no trouble, for 
the soil and sunshine had absorbed the moisture of the morning, and the 

iFrom 751^ Bkyclhig World, August 26, 1881, pp. X8S-189. 


track, freed from the dust of the previous day, was at its very best. The rain 
had freshened all the foliage and given life to the atmosphere ; the fruit trees 
were in full bloom, and. in many cases so overhung the road as to fill the air 
with fragrance ; in short, it would be hard to imagine pleasanter conditions 
for riding. The pump on Rowley Green, 6 m., was reached in an hour after 
starting, during which hour about a mile of perfect shell road was whizzed 
across, and the second hour showed a record of 8 m. more. The third hour, 
6} m., brought us to. Salem, in ample season for the train. When I dis- 
mounted in front of the Hotel Vendome, Boston, at 8.20 o'clock, the cyclom- 
eter indicated 93 m. for the two days. My companion proceeded a little 
further, and as he rode somewhat before joining me, his record for the two 
days was a dozen miles greater. Considering that he was a boy of eighteen, 
who had never before been on a tour or ridden more than 20 m. in a day, I 
thought his ability to do 105 m. without inconvenience or subsequent ill- 
effects was a pretty good proof of the healthfulness of bicycling. He was a 
leader on the road more of the time than a follower, and he often bobbed 
along serenely, through sand and ruts, when I myself, out of prudent regard 
for my more venerable bones, preferred to make frequent dismounts. Save 
for the six hours' delay, we should have covered the whole distance from 
Portsmouth to Boston on that memorable 29th of May ; and I am sure he 
will always be as glad as I am to recommend the track in question to all 
wheelmen who have not as yet had the pleasure of its acquaintance.^ 

My record for Monday, the 30th, was 19} m., which included 4 m. in the 
tail of the great parade, and an afternoon spin to Chestnut Hill Reservoir. 
The next day I did a similar distance, as one of a party of eighteen, who 
lunched at the Blue Bell Tavern in Milton, by invitation of the Boston men. 
Wednesday afternoon (I did n't get started till afternoon, because I did n't 
•• go home till morning," from the orgies at St. Botolph's) I went to Dedham, 
and rode some 35 m. over the admirable roads of that region, including an- 
other visit to the reservoir, and a coast down the hill there, when my wheel 

lln wheeling towards Portsmouth, the Seabrook sands can be ax'oided by following the 
horse-car tracks from Newburyp<»t, by the Chain Bridge, to Amesbury, instead of crossing the 
Merrimac River on t&e old travel bridge, near the railroad bridge at Newburyport. After cross, 
bg the Chain Bridge, wheelmen should take the second right turn at the guide4x}ard marked 
" 18 m. to Portsmouth," which road' leads to the large Rocky Hill meeting-house, where a 
guide-board is marked " Hampton, 9 m.," which road ends at Methodist Churdi in Seabrook. 
Thence the regular travel road can be followed to Portsmouth. On the return trip the right- 
hand guide-post at the fork of the roads at the Methodist Chiuxi) in Seabrook, marked " Ames- 
bury Village, 3^ m.," should be followed, instead of the left (me, " Newburyport, 4] m." At 
the open space, about 2 m. beyond, is a guide-board inscribed " Newbur3rport, a m.," meaning 
the boundary line, not the dty. This road 4eads to Rocky Hill meeting-house, where the 
straight road, instead of turning to the left, leads to the horse-car tracks north of Chain Bridge. 
This route is only about a mile longer than the direct road, and with the exception of one sharp 
hill, the road is excellent, and free from sand. The trip of 65 ra. from Boston to Portsmouth, 
can be easily made in a day by any fair rider, and I myself have made it without any forced dis- 
mounts on account of hills or sand.— Tslzah, in BL World, Aug. a6, 1881, p. 190L 


ran away with me but did n*t qoite throw me off. Dm-ing about half of this 
afternoon's ride I had a pleasant chance companion in the person of a sturdy 
youth on a big wheel, who said his brother drove a sixty-inch, and who will 
himself, I doubt not, ultimately attain the requisite stature for driving a sim- 
ilar monster. On Thursday morning, at 9 o'clock, having sent my baggage to 
Springfield, I bade adieu to the Hotel Vendome, and rode out to Cambridge 
for breakfast. I had planned to start at 5 ; but the rain was drizzling down 
when the waiter called me then, and I was glad to sleep for another three 
hoars. Even at 9 the sun had not been shining long enough to dry the roads ; 
but by noon, when I left Harvard Square, all ill-effects of the rain had dis- 
appeared. At Mount Auburn Cemetery, the superintendent denied my ve- 
hicle the privilege of entering the gates ;. so I journeyed throqgh North Cam- 
bridge to the Monument House in Lexington, where I stopped for lunch at a 
o'clock, some 21m. from the start and 10 m. from the college yard. I was 
told that the road towards Concord was inferior, and so went from Lexington 
to Waltham, an excellent spin of 6^ m., in about } h. Leaving there a half- 
hour later, my first stop was caused in an hour by some road repairs in 
Wellesley, 7J m. At South Framingham, I took another rest, leaving there 
at 6^ and reaching Northboro' hotel, 14^ m., at 7.45, making 54} m. for the day. 

When I made my next mount, at 5.30 on Friday morning, a chilly wind 
from the east blew against my back and threatened all the while to turn the 
prevailing heavy mist into unmistakable rain. The best I dared hope for 
was to reach Worcester before the roads should get too slippery. I did 
reach the railroad station there, 9 m., in 1} h., which I thought creditably fast 
traveling, considering the hills. Where the roads fork at about the middle of 
the journey, I took the '' new " or left-hand one, and went down grade for 
about a mile to the railroad track (where perhaps a tourist bound for Bos- 
ton might well take the road for Westboro* rather than the Northboro* road, 
down which I came). If any of the Worcester riders remember the bad 
words I used about the journey from that city to South Framingham, in the 
reix>rt which I printed concerning my first ride from Springfield to Boston in 
1879, let me confess to them that it was all a mistake, — a clear case of "a 
good man gone wrong." Trusting to the Grafton route described in " The 
American Bicycler," I failed even to follow that with accuracy, and therefore 
used up the whole of a day in doing some 25 m. I now wish to say that the 
proper track between Worcester and Boston is as good a one as need be. 

The east wind and heavy mist were as threatening as ever when I finished 
breakfast in Worcester ; but, remembering the proverb that " it's an ill-wind 
that blows nobody good," I ventured to hope that mine might be the body 
which this particular ill-wind (cursed through the chattering teeth of every- 
one else whom I met) was destined to benefit. So at 7.40 I mounted again, 
and in an hour had got to the hill beyond the brick church in Leicester, 
nearly 6 m. I stopped next at Spencer, an hour later, 4^ m. The mist here 
was almost thick enough to cut, and the shivering Spencerians, clad in over- 


coats, evidently felt murderous towards me for my apparent ability to keep 
warm without a coat of any sort. Brookfield, 8} ro., was reached at ii.3$, 
and West Brookfield, 3 m., \ h. later. Wlien I started on again at 2 o'clock, the 
mjst had lifted, but the east wind was still threatening me, and at times in 
the afternoon there were occasional brief sprinklings of rain. At the hill by 
the lakq side, about a mile beyond the hotel where I should have taken the 
left^haiia road to Warren, I took the right-hand one ; and, when I discovered 
^ .my mistake, . \ determined, rather than retrace 3 m. of poor road, to push on 
^ ' , " to Ware instead, and complete my tour to Springfield by that longer (and 
'^tm-^ prpbably rougher) route. Five miles more brought me to Ware, at 3.30 p. M.; 
an4 I'horndike, 8 m. on, was reached an hour later. A mile of good side- 
walk riding led to Three Rivers. Jenksville, 'j\ m. on, was reached in \\ h., 
' spite of several hills, and another mile of good sidewalk then led to Indian 
Orchar'd, at which place I should probably have arrived two hours earlier 
had I taken the Warren route. Dusk had now settled down, and darkness 
soon followed, with occasional rain-drops ; but the east wind still help>ed me, 
and I rode nearly all the way across the plain, either in the rut or on the ad- 
joining edge of hard gravel to the horse railroad terminus in East State st, 
Springfield, 5 m., at 8.15. Then followed 3 m. of slow wheeling over the 
dimly-lighted macadam of the city streets and the planks of the North 
bridge, whence I walked 2 m. homeward without trying a single mount. My 
day's journey of 64^ m. was completed at 945 P. M. ; and by 10 o'clock the 
rain, which had been threatening me every hour since daybreak, was pouring 
down in right good earnest. The cyclometer showed 286^ m. for the seven 
successive days, an average of 41 m. ; and this was the first occasion of my 
mounting a wheel each and every day of a given week. (Later report, p. 112.) 
^Pemberton Square, in Boston, may properly be taken as the terminus 
of the smooth roadway of the State of Massachusetts, and I recommend it as 
the objective point to be kept in mind by any one who plans to begin or finish 
a bicycle tour at the capital city of that ancient and honorable common- 
wealth. It is an eminently respectable little enclosure (perhaps 25 or 30 rods 
long and about as wide as Broadway), with a macadam roadway surrounding 
the central strip of grass and trees, which are protected by an iron fence. 
Red brick houses, mostly devoted to lawyers' offices, shut it in quite solidly ; 
and as the outlet of its southern end (westward, into Somerset St., and so, by 
a turn of a few rods to the left, to the head of Beacon sL, just east of the 
State House) is not opposite the outlet of its center (eastward, by a short 
macadamized descent into Scollay Square), the explorer of Pemberton Square 
always has the uneasy feeling of having got himself into a cage or ad-de-sac^ 
at whose entrance he carelessly failed to notice the warning, " No thorough- 
fare I " This mistaken impression is heightened by the extreme contrast 
which the scholarly quiet of the place presents to the rattle and roar which 

iFrom The Bicycling World, May 22, 1885, PP- 60-64. 


characterize the adjacent plaza called Scollay Square. That stone-paved 
opening is the lenninus of Tremont St., a main artery of the city, stretching 
westward for 3 m. or more (and, practically, also of Washington st., which 
nins nearly parallel to it) ; and, as the tremendous horse-car traffic through 
those and other thoroughfares converges and concentrates about this point, 
Scollay Square is a place where the car-drivers and teamsters ceaselessly rage 
at one another, — roaring out their robust curses and merry jests from morning 
until midnight, — and where the car-conductors continually do cry. In strange 
contrast to all this rush and tumult, is the profound repose of the decorous lit- 
tle Pemberton Square, which I have before described as situated but a few 
rods away, and which I have thought worth describing to wheelmen because 
its name has long been familiar to them in connection with the Bi, Worlds 
whose office has been in one of the upper-floors of No. 8, at the north end of 
the square, since October 28, 1881. 

On descending thence to Scollay Square, the tourist is immediately con- 
fronted by the Crawford House (where I have secured a very decent night's 
lodging for a dollar, on two or three occasions), and if he wishes to patronize 
a more pretentious or expensive hostelry, he may find the Revere, the Trem- 
ont, Parker's and Young's all within 40 or 50 rods to the left or right. The 
City Hall and the Court House are close to the two last-named ; while Faneuil 
Hall, the Post Office and the Custom House, as well as many of the theaters, 
museums and other places of interest, may be found within \ m. of the 
square ; and nearly all the steamboat-docks, ferries and railway stations are 
within \ m. of it. The great brick building which serves as a terminus for 
the railway from Providence (the Albany terminus is J m. east, and both lines 
lead to New York), and which. stands a few rods from the south side of the Pub- 
lic Garden, may be reached by riding westward from Pemberton Square along 
Beacon St., as far as it forms the northern border of the Common and the 
Public Garden, and then along Arlington and Boylston sts. (respectively the 
western and southern borders of the garden), a distance of about i m., with- 
out dismount. The massive clock-tower of this building, whose dials are 
illuminated by night, is notable as a landmark that may pilot the tourist to 
the house of the Boston Bicycle Club, hard by (No. 87 Boylston st.), or to the 
still more elegant mansion (No. 152 Newbury St.), built by and for the Massa- 
chusetts Bicycle Club, and said to be the most substantial structure of its sort 
in the world. It was dedicated March 25, 1885, and an illustrated description 
of it occupied a half-dozen pages of Outing for that month. " This magnifi- 
cent temple of the wheel has three stories and a basement, with a frontage of 
24 ft. and a depth of 90 ft., and it stands 22 ft. back from the sidewalk, whence 
a wheelman may ride directly into the arched doorway, upon an incline of con- 
crete, which takes the place of steps. Red brick, terra-cotta and light shades 
of Nova Scotia stone, combine with the broad bay-window and oriel of the 
second story, and the inscribed scroll-slab in the gable above the third, to 
form quite a handsome front. The land is owned in fee simple, though the 


vote to ' form a corporation for the purpose of purchasing land and building 
a club-house ' was taken as late as March 4, 1884 ; and the beautiful structure 
owes its existence to the agency of one man — Colonel Albert A. Pope." An 
illustrated history of the Boston Bicycle Club, the oldest in America (by 
Charles £. Pratt, for four years its president, in the Wheelman^ March, 188;^ 
pp. 401-412), gives a picture of its former house on the comer of Union Park 
and Tremont St., which was taken possession of December 5, 1881 ; and also 
of Cobb's Tavern, in Sharon, a favorite objective point for club runs. 

The finest boulevard in the city is Commonwealth a v., stretching in a 
straight line from Arlington st. (the western border of the Public Garden) to 
the street called West Chester Park (i m.), and at right angles to each of them. 
It is the second street south of Beacon st. (the north windows of whose north- 
side houses overlook the Charles River) ; and just below the avenue is New- 
bury St. and then Boylston st. — these five thoroughfares being parallel to and 
equidistant from each other, for the specified mile. This is distinctively the 
fashionable " Back Bay district " of Boston, reclaimed in recent years from 
the marshes which used to be flooded by the river tides, and it is now pretty 
solidly covered over with the most ornate and expensively-built houses in the 
city. Dartmouth st., which is the third western parallel of Arlington st. 
(border of Public Garden), forms the eastern side of the great Hotel Ven- 
dome, which fronts northward on Commonwealth av., and it also forms the 
eastern side of the New Old South Church, which fronts southward on Boyls- 
ton St. The rear of this church is close upon the rear of the Massachusetts 
Bicycle Club house, which fronts northward upon Newbury st. ; and one 
block eastward from the church is Trinity Church, fronting on Trinity Square 
(a favorite rendezvous and starting-point for club runs), adjacent to which are 
the Hotel Brunswick, the Institute of Technology, the Museum of Fine Arts, 
and the Natural History Museum. All these buildings are within \ m. of the 
clock-tower, before recommended as a useful landmark for the visitor's guid- 
ance, and this may also serve to show him where Columbus av. branches off 
southwestward from Boylston st. ; for that avenue, after about \ m. of Belgian 
blocks, offers nearly i m. of asphalt surface, 'to West Chester Park, up which 
he may turn, right, to Commonwealth av. Dartmouth st. also affords a 
smooth connection between this and Columbus av., near the end of whose 
asphalt a turn may be made, left, through East Chester Park, and then by way 
of Albany, Swett, Boston, Columbia, and Washington sts., out of the city to 
Milton Lower Mills, and so to Quincy, Brockton and Taunton, or to Paw- 
tucket and Providence. Chestnut Hill Reservoir, however, is the best ob- 
jective point for the stranger to steer for when he first wheels out from Bos- 
ton ; and the best route thither, from the end of Commonwealth av., is the 
direct one which is supplied by Beacon st., leatting over the so-called Mill- 
dam. Brighton St., which is crossed at right angles just before entering the 
reservoir (whose roads allow a circuit of 2\ m. of id«ally smooth macadam) is 
almost exactly 5 m. from Pemberton Square. 



My only visit to the editorial rooms before noted as overlooking this 
s<)uare was on the afternoon of the day of my landing in Boston, Sept. 10, '83, 
on the return from a tour in Nova Scotia. I then gave careful study to the 
various suburban wheeling routes which had been marked upon the large map 
hanging from the wall, and I procured a copy of the Bu World of August 31, 
containing H. W. W.*s brief report of the roads leading to Providence and 
"Warren, R, I. (63 m.). Two other tourists were my companions, next morning, 
as far as the reservoir,— our route being the indirect one through Brighton, — 
and before they took leave of me, at the point where the road dividing the 
two ponds of the reservoir has its outlet on Beacon St., their united praises of 
a certain hateful " take-me-too belt " were beginning to have the deplorable 
effect of unsettling my just prejudice against it. At 10 o'clock I started on, 
taking the first turn to the left (Hammond st.) on the brow of the hill which 
I ascended westward from the reservoir road, and going by this street and 
then La Grange st. to the store in West Roxbury at 10.40 (5 m.). There I 
turned to the right, and, in a few rods, took the. left fork in the road (Center 
St.) to Memorial Hall, in Dedham, at ix {i\ m.); passing under the railway 
just above the station called Ellis (2^ m.), and stopping for dinner at Nor- 
wood (j^ m.); whence I rode to the post-o^ce in Walpole (4^ m.) in 44 min., 
which was just double the time taken by H. W. W., who, however, reported 
the surface in superb condition. In ordinary weather this track (about 16 m.) 
between the reservoir and Walpole could be ridden in either direction with- 
out dismount ; and, on the present occasion, in spite of the deep dust caused 
by six weeks* drought, I did hardly any walking. The direct road for Provi- 
dence from Walpole leads through Wrentham, but I, in obedience to the 
guide before quoted, took the road for Foxboro*, and then, i m. out, where I 
ought to have turned to the right, down the turnpike, I mistakenly kept 
straight on for i m. Turning here, I walked 2 m. along a bad road which 
would never be ridable in any weather, and finally reached the turnpike 
again, in North Walpole, whence I rode 4 m. to Foxboro*, and, with some de- 
tours, to the central park in Mansfield, 3^ m., finishing there at 6 o'clock a 
day's record of 35 m. 

In lack of any regular hotel, I spent the night at an odd sort of public 
boarding-house, whence I started at 8 a. M. of Wednesday, in a threatening 
mist, which soon became a light rain, and reached East Attleboro' (S^ m., 
though W.'s record says 9^ m.) in 1} h. ; thence through the manufacturing 
villages of Dodgeville and Hebronville to ^awtucket (8i m.), in ij h. Here I 
halted an hour for dinner^in the midst of a heavy shower, which had not 
ceased when I, being already pretty thoroughly soaked, resumed my journey. 
An hour later (3 m.) I took brief shelter at a church shed in East Providence, 
and soon afterwards got off frbm the proper track and tramped through the 
woods, on one of the cross-roads, for 4 m. or so, without getting a single 
chance to ride. Following this came 6 m. of riding, the latter part of it on a 
smooth shell surface, to Warren, at" 4 o'clock; and then 4 m. of sidewalk 


wheeling, with only occasional dismounts, to Bristol, making 34J m. for the 
day. There was no rain during the final hour ; but it fell pretty steadily dur- 
ing the night, and at times in the following forenoon. The sun shone out at 
I o'clock, and the rest of the day was bright and hot, in spite of two or three 
short showers. Between 3 and 6.30 P. M. I traversed 19 m., ending at the 
Hotel Dorrance, in Providence. The sidewalks of Bristol I explored for 3 
m. before beginning the return journey, and the best part of this was the 8 m- 
of shell road between the Barrington bridge beyond Warren, and a certain 
point opposite Providence, where I turned to the left for the hotel, which I 
reached (3 m.) after much trundling on the sidewalks. Though the rains had 
made the roads heavy, they were all ridable, and I was only i^ doing the 
8 m. The scenery of this route overlooking Providence bay and river is 
attractive; and, if I had kept straight northward, instead of crossing it Xo 
reach the city, I presume I might have had these water-views all the way to 
Pawtucket, about 5 m. above. Bristol is a sleepily respectable old town, near 
the end of the peninsula between Providence Bay and Mount Hope Bay, and 
is distant 5 m. from the very lively manufacturing town of Fall River, which 
lies upon the eastern shore of the latter. A ferry used to connect Bristol with 
the northern end of Rhode Island isJand, upon whose southern extremity, about 
10 m. below, stands the city of Newport; and the present keeper of the light- 
house, at the old ferry landing, about 2 m. from the center of Bristol, occa- 
sionally plies his row-boat for the accommodation of a casual traveler who 
wishes to visit the island. ^ 

My own wheel entered Newport by boat and left it by train, on the occa- 
sion of its single visit there in 1880 ; but the train-journey, which was on the 

1" H. P.," in Outingy August, 1884, pp. 350-354, describing a September ride from Prori. 
dence to Newport, says : " We enjoyed the prospect spread before us as we lei our machines 
run along the down-grade h-om Bristol. The road continually becomes steeper, with here and 
there a patch of sand, until it terminates on the beach near the light-house. The keeper w» 
twenty minutes in rowing us across. Mounting then near the Bristol Ferry House, a commo- 
dious summer hotel, we toiled up a steep hill, abounding in sand, ruts and stones, and, at the 
top of it, instead of continuing straight south, we took a cross-road to the right, and, after follow- 
ing it for about a mile, again turned south into the * West ' road. Immediately on turning into 
the cross-road, the wheeling became better, and the road is ridable from here into Newport, 
with the exception of two hills, 5 and 6 m. distant from N. The last 5 m. were travel^ 
quickly, under the rising moon, and we ended our run, from Middletown into Newport, oa. a 
perfectly macadamized road. Previously, however, we had rolled our wheels over the fair 
island in every direction : Now along Bellevue av., bordered on either side, for 2 m., with fine 
residences ; now into the country, ever varying in aspect, where the ancient windmills and old 
farm-houses contrast strangely with the modem pinnacled and gilded cottages ; now to Paradise, 
and to the Hanging Rocks, under the shadow of which Bishop Berkeley was wont to sit while 
he was writing the ' Minute Philosopher ' ; now around the Ocean Drive, which stretdies for 
7 m. along the rocky shores of the Atlantic ocean. *» • • Instead of going to Bristol, as we 
did, the wheelman may, at Warren, bear to the east, and go through Fall River. Crossing Mt. 
Hope Bay, on the Slade's Ferry bridge, he may ride south through Fall River and Tiverton, 
crossing the Seaconnet river over the * Stone ' bridge, to Rhode Island. But this route is at 
least 5 m. farther, with the last a m. at ' Ferry Neck ' on Rhode Island, through vary deep sand." 


first day of summer, ended quickly at Taunton, and I thence wheeled to Bos- 
ton (40 m., 9.30 A. M. to 8 P. M.), with four companions, who were the first 
ones I ever toured with, though I that day completed my i, 000th m. Through 
" the swamp," 6 m. from the start, we did much walking or slow riding for 3 m., 
and then, at the hotel in Brockton, 5 m. beyond, we rested i\ h. for dinner. At 
the Robertson House, in Quincy (13 m.)» we also halted \ h.for cooling bever- 
ages, and quickly again at the Blue Bell Tavern, -about half way to Milton 
Lower Falls (4 m.) ; whence our course led through Roxbury (3 m.) to the 
hotel in Brighton (5 m.), where I spent the night. Cobb's Tavern, in Sharon, 
just beyond South Canton (a favorite objective point of the Boston Bicycle 
Club), is 6i m. from Milton Lower Mills, and Mansfield is about the same 
distance beyond Cobb*s. "These roads as far as Mansfield are excellent, 
much better than our country pikes," is the report of a Pawtucket man ( T/te 
Wkeely Feb, 6, *85), who took that route homeward from Boston ; " and from 
Blue Hill to Cobb's they are like billiard-tables, giving us the pleasantest part 
of the run." 

My route to Pawtucket, from the Hotel Dorrance, in Providence, on the 
morning of September 14, was 5 m. long, and lay through Westminster st. to 
N. Main St., whose car tracks I followed to Olney st. and then up-hill to the 
macadam of the Swan Point road (i^m.), the sidewalks being generally ridable 
without need of dismounting at the curbs. After going up-hill to the left 
through the center of Pawtucket, I turned to the right at the top of it, and pro- 
ceeded along the sidewalks to Valley Falls Bridge (i J m). The sign " 8 m. to 
Woonsocket" was ijm. beyond here, and I followed the sidewalk to Ashton, 
and then the road, a gradual ascent of i m. or more, to the church on top of 
Cumberland hill (5} m.), — ^having been 3 h. in doing the 134 m. The descent 
was sandy, and most of the next 3 m. had to be walked, to the region of the 
bridge, followed by i m. of riding to a central point in Woonsocket. After this 
came i m. of rather poor road or sidewalk, of black sand or loam, to Black- 
stone, on a little stream of that name, whose dark and dirty waters have an 
outlet at Providence ; and I was told that the river-road running alongside 
it all the way to that city was continuously sandy. The only header of my 
four days' tour was had here, while trying to ride along a narrow ledge 
between a deep rut and the bushes, just before reaching Blackstone. About 
2 m. beyond is Millville, where I bought a ticket for the train which I was told 
would save me from 6 m. of sand; but, on learning that a quarter-dollar would 
be exacted for carrying my bicycle that distance, I refused to submit to the 
extortion and so plodded on. After i or 2 m., the road gradually improved, 
and I reached Uxbridge (26^ m. from the start) at 2 o*clock,and halted briefly for 
lunch. The railroad station in Worcester (18J m.) was reached at 5.20 P. m., 
and no walking was required on the way, — the final third of it, from Millbury 
m, supplying the smoothest stretch of the tour, — Northbridge, Farmersville, 
Fisherville and Saundersville having been previously passed through. 
Taking train to Springfield at 6, 1 rode thence 4 m. into the country ; total, 49 m. 


Two months before (June 16-17, *83), I wheeled from West Springfield to 
Pembcrton Square, in Boston (103 m.), — my first day's ride (5 A. M. to 6 p. M.) 
ending at Spencer, 44 m. from the start. The first dismount was caused on 
the sand plain, 7 m. after starting, and 2\ m. before I reached Indian Orchard, 
where I stopped for breakfast at 6.30. At Jenksville, i m. beyond (where I 
recommend tourists to cross the bridge, I., and take the route for Ware, in 
spite of what my report of 1881 says against it, on p. 104), I turned to r., and, 
after crossing the railway, kept alongside it through the sand ; following 
which was i m. of clay or loam, continuously ridable ; so that I reached 
North Wilbraham, 3f m.from the bridge, in just i h. White sand, alternating 
with short ridable stretches of loam, was the rule as far as Palmer (5^ m.) 
and West Brimfield (5J m,)i though I managed to get over each section in 
about i| h. The hill iest and sandiest track of all was in approaching the 
last-named station ; and beyond it I encountered "road repairs" for i^ m. 
Progress then became pleasanter along the shaded banks of the Chicopee 
River, whose waters plashed merrily over the stones ; and the ridable stretches 
were more frequent to West Warren (2 m.), whence I rode all the way to the 
hotel in Warren (2jm.), and rested there 3 h. for dinner. Resuming the wheel 
at 3.30 o'clock, I found decent roads to the fork (2^ m., near the hill and 
pond) where I, two years before, unwittingly turned towards Ware. I now 
recommend that route as rather less objectionable than the one just described. 
The distance between this pond and the bridge at Jenksville is 23 m. by 
either road, and each one of them contains more miles of unridable surface 
than any similar stretch of the entire route from New York to Boston. 
Next in number may be ranked the bad miles which the tourist on this track 
must conquer between Milford and Meriden, in Connecticut. 

The smoothest spin of the afternoon ended at the pond in East Brook- 
field (7 m. from the last-named pond), following which came a big hill and 
several smaller ones, ending at the Massasoit House in Spencer (3^ m.) ; and 
when I started thence, at 5.30 o'clock, next morning, I was forced to do con- 
siderable walking, here and there, by sand, or loam in the form of deep white 
dust, or gravel which had been carted on by the road repairers. I surprised 
myself by riding to the top of the big hill in Leicester where the churches 
are (first on the east sidewalk, then on the concrete of the west one and finally 
in the roadway), and also to the top of the following hill, where stands the 
brick church, — ^for a short shower had by this time made the surface heavy. 
Just as I stopped for breakfast at a restaurant, a little beyond the public 
square in Worcester (11^ m. and 2\ h. from the start), the rain began again in 
good earnest, and it was still drizzling when I resumed my ride at 9.20. 
Turning northward at the railroad station, I soon climbed up the big hill on 
which stands the State Hospital, descended thence across the causeway of 
Lake Quinsigamond, climbed another hill and so reached the fork (3^ m.*) 
where one sign points to " Shrewsbury if m." and the other says " Westboro 
61 m. The former route is preferable, though it slopes continuously upward 


for about i m. from this point, and it is the route by which T. Midgley once 
rode straightaway to Boston without dismount ; but, as I had tried it when 
riding in the other direction, two years before (p. 103), I thought I would 
explore the Westboro* route, and so I plodded straight ahead, up one tre- 
mendous hill and many smaller ones, sandy and difficult at best, and some of 
them too stony even for riding down, — until, at 11.40, where a cross-roads 
sign said " Northboro' 3 m. to the 1.," I turned off to the r., and found good 
riding to the railroad station in Westboro' (10 m. and 2^ h. from the res- 
taurant in Worcester). Thence I wheeled continuously, — ^not stopping even 
for the road repairs on the down-grades, — by a winding and hilly road, to the 
hotel in Ashland, 9 m. in 1} h. Resting there a similar time for dinner, I rode 
to South Framingbam (3 m. in \ h.) and thence without stop (3I m. in 25 min.) to 
the drug-store in Natick. Mounting there at 4.30, 1 stayed in the saddle till 
5.45, when I met some wheelmen at the water trough of Chestnut Hill Res- 
ervoir (II m.), and, after speeding once around it with them, I took a detour 
out through Brighton, and finally reached Pemberton Square and the Craw- 
ford House, at 7.45 o'clock, with a day's record of 59 m. I sailed the fol- 
lowing morning for Portland, — there to join the party whose week's advent- 
ures " in the Down East fogs " may be found detailed in Chapter XX., — and I 
remember that several of my short day's journeys " in the procession," over 
roads of equally good average surface, tired me far more than this solitary 
Sunday jaunt, which was more than double the length of the longest of 
them. The air was clear and bracing, with bright sunshine, after the fore- 
noon's rain ; and the afternoon's roads were rather improved by this. I think 
that from Ashland (23 m.), and perhaps even from Westboro' (32 m.), I might 
have ridden to Pemberton Square without a stop. After getting near the top 
of the hill at Newton Lower Falls, instead of turning 1., to obey the sign 
•* Boston 10 m.," I kept on, r., to the summit, " Boston 9 m."; followed the tele- 
graph poles until I reached the sign "Beacon st." in the woods, and then con- 
tinued along it, up some steep but smooth hills to the reservoir. 

"The Cyclist's Road Book of Boston and Vicinity," by A L. Atkins, League Consul for 
Boston, was published by him April 11, 1885, and is mailed from his residence, 17 West Walnut 
Puk, or from the office of the Bi. Worlds on receipt of 15 c. It contains 41 " routes," all start- 
ing from Trinity Square, and arranged in tabular form. The names of streets or other localities 
make a column in the middle of the page, preceded by the word " right " or " left," and followed 
by an adjective describing the surface, or else a numeral designating the distance. There are 24 
of these pages (6 by 4 in.), and a similar number given to advertisements ; but the latter may be 
reaifily stripped off with the cover, leaving as a residuum ioz. of valuable information (about 
j,ooo words) which can be easily tucked into the vest-pocket, and which is well worth the trifle 
dmged for it to any wheelman who rides in the region of Boston. Many of these " routes " 
are also given in detail in " The American Bicycler " (Boston ; Charles £. Pratt, 1879) pp. 134- 
149; and in the second edition thereof (x88o, price tec.) additional ones, in tabular form, cover 
pp. 3i2-2a6, and raise the total of " routes " to 85, though more than half of these new statistics 
bekmg outside of Massachusetts. "The First Annual Hand-Book, 1884-5, o^ the Mass. Division, 
L A. W." (complied by Edward K. Hill, Chief Consul for 1883-41 Worcester, and published in 
July, 1884, by J. P. Burbank, Boston), conuins ax "routes," condensed, with intelligent de- 


scriptions, into 4 pp. of fine type ; lists of towns " with the qualities of the riding in each," arranged 
alphabetically by counties (4 pp.) ; general and sectional descriptions of the State (5 pp.), hotel 
list (6 pp.), League information, with names of consuls and other officers (11 pp.), advertisements 
(6 pp.), and a dozen blank pages for memoranda. Its size is 3I by 6] in. ; weight, ij oz. ; price, 
25 c.; and every wheelman who designs to take a tour in the State should buy a cx>py of the 
Division officers (M. D. Currier, at Lawrence, or F. P. Kendall, at Worcester). 

Tlie book just named reconunends to the attention of riders a map of the region arcmnd 
Boston (surveyed 1S83, ^csX^ i m. to t inch, price j^, mounted $3), within a radius of about 
30 m., taking in Brockton, s. ; Natick, w. ; Lowell, Andover and the whole of Cape Ann, n. 
The same map with a radius of about xz m. (taking in Cohaseet and Dedham, s. ; Nalick and 
Concord, w. ; Wakefield and Salem, n.) sells for 75 c, and is a more convenient size for use 
upon the road. The Topographical State Atlas (official, 1871, scale a^ m. to i in.) offers eadb 
county separately for 50 c. (doth back, 75 c), folded in cover for pocket use ; and both these and 
the Boston maps may be purchased of Cupples, Upham & Co., 2S3 Washington st. "Berk- 
shire," a good map for pocket use, is mailed free to every one sending a request to the Berkshire 
Life Insurance Co., of Piitsfield, whose advertisement has a place, of course, in one comer of 
the sheet. The size of this is 32 by 24 in., though the map covers only about } of it ; and, as 
the county reaches entirely across the w. end of Mass., the roads of Conn., s. ; N. V., w., and Vt., 
n., are shown for about 3 m. from the border. The scale is about 2^ m. to x in., but all the 
roads are clearly shown, as well as the hills, mountains, streams and lakes ; while a special sur- 
charge of red is given to the main roads, and special symbols of that tint (star, cross, drde and 
square) show the place of each school-house, cemetery, church and railroad station. As the 
loads from Williamstown (n. w. cor. of co.) to Pittsfield are fairly ridable, and thence down the 
Housatonic valley to Conn, are very fine, I expect that the Berks. Life Ins. Co. will be quickly 
forced to print a new edition of their excellent map, to meet the demands which wheelmen will 
make for it, as a result of this present announcement. The copyright (iSSs) is held by its designer, 
Walter Watson, C. E., and the engraving and printing are by Struthers, Servoss & Co., N. Y. 
G. H. Walker & Co., lithographers, x6o Tremont St., Boston, publish the following coonty 
maps : Essex, 1884, 32 by 24 in., i^ m. to i in., which covers all the coast-line of the State 
from the suburbs of Boston to the border of New Hampshire; Worcester, 18S4, 25 by 21 
in., 2 m. to I in. ; Franklin, 1885, 28 by 18 in., \\ m. to i in. ; Hampshire and Hampden, 1884, 28 
by 22 in., \\ m. to i in. ; Bristol, 1880, 28 by 18., 2 ra. to x in., "prepared expressly for this atlas " ; 
Plymouth, xS8o, 30 by 20 in., 2 m. to i in. ; and Barnstable, 1880, 22 by 20 in., 3 m. to i in., 
" prepared expressly f©r this atlas." The Cape Cod extremity of the State is included in the 
latter county ; Plymouth takes in the rest of the coast as far as Hingham, and Bristol covers the 
region between Plymouth and Rhode Island. Just north of these two counties is Norfolk (whoM 
map is now in preparation) stretching from Worcester County to the coast ; while between the 
two latter and Essex, lies Middlesex, whose map (30 by 25 in., i] m. to i in.) is to be issued 
May 15, 1885. The three parallel counties of Franklin, Hampshire, and Hampden make a 
square section of the Sute, with the western end of each bounded by Berkshire and the eastern 
end of each by Worcester, which also covers a square section nearly as lai^ge as the three com- 
bined. The publishers mail these maps at the uniform price of 25 c. (or 50 c., if colored) ; and 
any desired road-route in Massachusetts may thus be traced out in advance, by every tourist who 
supplies himself with one or another of these cheap county charts. 

"The Wheelman's Hand-Book of Essex County " (compiled and published in April, 18S4, 
by George Chinn, of Marblehead, and Fred E. Smith, of Ipswich, and mailed by them on receipt 
of 20 c) is described upon its title page as " containing brief sketches of the various cities and 
towns of the county, with a list of their objects of interest ; a directory of hotels, clubs, consuls 
and executives ; road-routes, etc. ; also the history of the League of Essex County Wheelmen." 
It comprises 48 pp. (5} by 8 in.) of which 12 pp. are given to advertisements, and weighs t\ ox. 
The towns are arranged alphabetically, and no attempt is made to connect them by " routes," 
or to tabulate or index the information in the pamphlet ; but every tourist from Boston to Potts- 
mouth ought neverthelen to equip himself with it, as well as with Walker & Co. 's map of 


Easex. King's *' Dicdonaiy of Boston " (550 pp., 1,500 alphabetized topics, cloth bound, price 
|x), compiled by Edwin M. Bacon, editor of the Advertiser, ought to be bought by every visitor 
to that city. His " Harvaxd and its Surroundings " (1878, pp. 92, heliotypes, cloth, $\) is a model 
guide to Cambridge. The remainder of the series issued by the same Moses King are as fol- 
lows: " Handbook of Boston," " Handbook of Boston Harbor," " Handbook of Springfield" 
<|i.So)> and " Pocket4)ook of Cincinnati " (15 c). G. W. & C. B. Colton & Co., 182 William 
St., N. Y., paUish maps of *' Boston and adjacent towns " (34 by 29 in., |i), '* Mass. and R. I." 
(i3 by 14 in., 50 c), which contains a plan of the Boston region; " Mass., R. I. and Conn." 
(33 ^ 3' in., #■), and the '* New England States " (41 by 3a in., 1(1.50, mounted ^3), giving 
eastern part of Mass. on large scale, with parts of New York and Canada. G. H. Adams & 
Son, 59 Beekroan St., N. Y., also publish a map of " Mass. and R. I." (1874, 6 m. to i in., 600), 
CD two sides of a sheet, 19 by 28 in., which is worth the attention of bicyclers. I heartily recom- 
mend to them aiso a map which Walker & Co. are to publish June x, and whidi I have }ttst seen 
a pfoof impression of. On a sheet 30 by 24 in. , and on a scale of i m. to i in. , with circles drawn 
at X m. intervals from the State House in Boston, it shows every main road between Manchester 
(a. e.), Marshfisld (s. e.), Walpole ($. w.), and Billerica (n. w.), covering a region 14 ra. n., 15 m. 
s. and 8 m. w. of the central pobt, which is practically Pemberton Square. The names of the 
important streets are given, as well as those of the hills and brooks and other landmarks. The 
price is so c, or 75 G. if colored ; and the colored edition is folded in a cloth-bound cover. Covers 
a!so accompany their colored county maps. Cupples, Upham & Co. have just informed me that 
their State Atlas of '71 '^ nearly out of the market, — second-hand copies selling for $8 — and 
that they have a few sheets of the separate counties, at 50 c. (cloth-backed, 75 c.) each. Their 
" Mass., R. I. and part of Conn." (32 by 21 in., 2^ ra. to i in., folded in cloth cover 4 by 6 in., 
woi^hing a os.) sells for $1, or $2 if mounted. Their map of the Boston region (scale x m. to i 
in.) is isstted in two sizes, with three styles and prices for each size. The largest (" 20-m. 
dicle") is 44 by 4a in., weighs 2 oz. on pardunent paper, and costs $1.50; backed with cloth 
and folded to 5 by 7} in., it weighs 7I oz. and costs I3 ; bound and varnished, on rollers, it costs 
the same ; folded in doth-slip and case, $3.50. The " lo-m. circle " is 32 by 21 in., and costs 
75 c (i} oz.), $1.75 (3} oz.) or $2.25 (4 oz.). These are the two maps described at the beginning of 
the previous paragraph as recommended by the League officers. The " 5-m. circle " of the same 
pobliahen (who " also keep in stock a full supply of maps of all the States, — this department of 
the business being under the chaige of a member of the Mass. 6i. Club ") is on the much larger 
icale of 3I in. to x m., and costs 25 c. in paper cover (2 oz.), $1.25 in cloth cover, doth-back*d 
(4 oz.), or lx.75 if enclosed in a slip-case (5^ oz.), — size of sheet being 35 by 28^ in. 

The westward road " out from Boston " was the course chosen for the first American bicyde 
ride of " xoo m. straightaway in a day " ; and the rider was Paul Blatdtford, of Chicago, C^ 
tain of the Amherst College Bicycle Club, who, in returning from the League's second annual 
Buet, urtieeled from Boston to Amherst, 102 m., in 15 h., ending at 8.30 p. m. This was only 
a day or two before my own westward ride (see p. 103), and his route coincided with mine be- 
tween Wellcsley and Ware. A few days later, June 6, i88x, another member of the same 
dub, George F. Fiske, of New Haven (Amherst, A.B., '8t ; Yale, M.D., '83), weighing izo 
lbs., and riding a 48 in. Columbia, started from the college-jrard at 4 a. m., and got beyond 
Bddbertown, to m., at sunrise, i h.; the second ro m., to Ware, " over hilly, stony and sandy 
roads, half of which had to be walked," required 2 h.; and a stop of i h. was made for break- 
fast. Readiing Worcester at 11.30 a. m., and halting i h. there for dinner, he rode thence 
through Shrewsbury, Northboro', Framingham, Wellesley, West Newton, Brighton, and across 
the MiUdam to Cambridgeport, at 5.45 p. m., 102 m. " In a half-hour, with a groan, I re- 
luctantly mount, for the hardest 23 m. of the day. Every musde protests vigorously, but I 
know that this is one of the longest road-rides in the country, and I rejoice to sacrifice my 
musdes for the honor of the dub which is so far ahead of the other colleges in long-distance 
riding. I disnounted but once during the 23 m., and reached the hotel in Framingham at 8.30 
o'clock. This was the fastest spin of the day, and during the last 10 m. it seemed as if I had 
outridden and left behind my musdes ; for a sort of numbness set in, and the riding was merely 


mechanicaL I stayed in bed only from ii till 3.30 o'clock, and at 4 a. m. resumed the ride 
homeward. My muscles were, if possible, stifiEer and lamer than the night before, but 
began to limber up a little at Northboro', whfsre I breakfasted Worcester was reached at 8.30 ; 
Ware at a p. m.; the only header of the two days rewarded some reckless down-hill riding near 
Belchertown ; thence a driving rain accompanied me to Amherst at 6 p. m., 80 m. The next 
day I experienced no ill effects, and was in better trim for further riding than when I started, 
though I had covered 205 m. within 38 h." This is condensed from a three-column repmt in 
Bi. World of April 28, '82, p. 298; and briefer accounts appeared in AmAerst Student and 
Boston Herald^ soon after the tour. His best day's ride, previous to this, had been 80 m. In 
November, 1883, while touring in the Harz Mountains, he completed a riding record of 10,000 
m., of which a summary will be presented in a later chapter; and on June 3, 1884, between 
midnight and 11.40 p. m., he rode 205 m. (328 kilometers), back and forth between Leipsic and 
Dresden,— though the best previous day's road record in Germany was 300 kilometers. 

The next day's run of 100 m. " out from Boston," of which I have found any record, was 
reported thus for C. A. Hazleti's " Summary " {jDuiing^ Feb, 1884, p. 371) : " On Nov. 18, 1883, 
three members of the SpringfieH Bicycle Club, C. E. Whipple, O. N. Whipple and F. W. 
Westervelt, started from the U. S. Armory at 4.30 a. m. For 3^ m. they found good wheeling ; 
the next 5 m. very sandy, and all took headers. From Wilbraham to Palmer and West Warren, 
the roads were fair ; thence to the Brookfields, sandy and stony. About a m. out of Brookfield 
they stopped at a farm-house for breakfast. They found the road good, but very hilly firara 
Spencer to Leicester. Here they were met by Mr. Lamb, who wheeled to Worcester with them, 
where they stopped \ h. to telegraph home. Contrary to what had been told them, they found 
every hill between Springfield and Boston could be coasted with safety. Their next and last 
stop (i h.) was at a farm-house at Southboro', where they began to realize what good roads were. 
The prospect put new life into their tired limbs, it being the first long run they had ever taken. 
From Framingham they wheeled through Natick, Newton Lower Falls, Chestnut Hill Reservnr, 
to the Public Garden, Boston, and dismounted in front of Brigham's restaurant at 6.45 p. m." 
A year later (Nov. 9, '84), three other members of the same club, F. Eldred, A. O. McGarrett 
and W. J. McGarrett, rode from the city hall, Springfield, to the U. S. Hotel, Boston, in 
14} h. (riding time, 13I h.), taking breakfast at Warren, dinner at Worcester and supper at Bos- 
ton. Four days afterwards, L. B. Graves rode from Northampton to Boston, over a course previ- 
ously measured as 104 m. by Butcher cyclometer, but which was increased 1 m. by a mistaken 
detoiu- at the end. From his report in Wheels Nov. 28, '84, I extract the following : " Start, 4 
A. M.; Amherst, 7 m., 1} h.; Belchertown, 10} m., 2 h., and stop z h. for breakfast; Ware, 10 
m., 2 h. Roads from N. to A., first half fair, second half poor and sandy ; A. to B., not bad, 
though the grade is steadily upward ; B. to W., the worst stretch of the day, including plenty of 
long hills, so rough and sandy, as hardly to allow riding on down grades. I left W. at 1 1 
o'clock, in company with S. W. Coe ; rested for dinner at the Massasoit House, Spencer, i to a 
p. M.; reached Worcester at 4, and waited there till 6, for repairs to steering-head of machine 
(Yale 54 in.); thence to Brighton at midnight, with one lamp to give light for both of us. Fortu- 
nately the roads were in very good shape, and the only fall of the entire trip was a header 
taken by my companion, when he struck a high curbstone in the dark. Towards the end, we 
went astray from the proper track, to Roxbury station, and thence we jounced along the cobble 
stones of Tremont St., instead of the asphalt of Columbus av., so that it was 12.50 a. ic. when 
we reached the New Marlboro Hotel, and sat down to a hasty supper. This was a tri6e less 
than 21 h. after the start at N., and my riding time was just 16 h. Neither of us had ridden 
much during the preceding days, and we both felt in good condition the day following." The 
same paper of Oct. 17, '84, gave a brief report of a Sunday ride from Orange to Boston, Oct. 5, 
zii m., between 5.30 a. m. and zo.30 p. m., taken by C. H. Shepard and W. R. Winchdl, 
of the first-named town. Their riding time was 14 li., and their good condition at the finish was 
shown by the fact that they next day wheeled 55 m. The road from Orange to Fitchburg was 
far from good, and they were 6 h. in " walking " the 3a m. They found fine wheeling between 
there and Northboro', and went thence to Boston over the well-known route. 



Thk bicycle is an index to the existence of good roads, just as certainly 
as the good roads themselves are an index to the existence of a high degree 
of civilization in the locality possessing them. There is solid significance, 
therefore, in the fact that the largest and most energetic bicycle club in 
America is now flourishing in the little inland city of Springfield. If the high- 
ways of Hampden County had not been greatly improved from their condition 
of thirty years ago, it is hardly probable that the last three years would have 
witnessed the phenomenon of an increase in the number of local bicyclers 
from three to three hundred. The recent " tournament " may no doubt be 
made to teach various interesting " lessons " as to the power of personal 
energy and shrewdly-planned business combinations in bringing great things 
to pass; but its most impressive and lasting lesson ought to be connected 
with the fact that an exceptionally good series of local roadways is the ulti- 
mate basis upon which the tournament itself really rested. Were the roads 
of the region as poor now as in 1850, Springfield bicycling would not be 
much of a power to conjure with, — ^would not supply the machinery for creat- 
ing such a show as that which lately attracted thousands of strangers to the city. 

The late Samuel Bowles, while editor of the Springfield Republican^ in 
his varied e£Eorts to persuade the citizens to improve their special local ad- 
vantages, and to improve upon them, took frequent occasion to direct their 
notice to the attractiveness of the numerous roads in the region round about, 
and to the comparative inexpensiveness of expanding these into a connected 
series of " park drive-ways," to be used for purposes of pleasure and recrea- 
tion rather than for heavy business traffic. His plans for thus easily ensur- 
ing some excellent " breathing-places " around a city whose lack of a central 
park could only be met by an enormous expenditure of money, always seemed 
to me eminently practicable as well as admirable ; and I still hope that, in 
the course of a few years more, when a thousand or so of Springfield's citi- 
zens shall have become regular riders of the wheel, these same plans may 
be realized. The men who drive horses may not always greatly love the men 
who drive wheels (though, of the numberless things which " frighten horses," 
it would be hard to name one which causes fright less frequently than the 
bicycle), but they always do have a great liking for good roads ; and they 
ought clearly to see not only that good roads will develop bicycling in any 
given locality, but that the increase of bicyclers there will tend to make the 

iFrom The Wheelman^ December, 1883, pp. 186-193. 


good roads better and more numerous. In like manner, this present minute 
report of my personal observations on the roads of Hampden County which 
are most practicable for bicycling, though designed chiefly as a guide for the 
benefit of visiting wheelmen, will serve also to assure other strangers that the 
environs of Springfield may be readily explored by any sort of pleasure- 
carriage. Old residents, too, may, j>erhaps, be interested in reading of well- 
known paths as related to the new mode of locomotion, and the description 
may possibly even recall to their minds some agreeable combinations of 
routes for their own afternoon drives. 

In pushing my bicycle a distance of 8,000 m., I have made trial of about 
4,000 distinct miles of roadway, situated in fifteen separate States of the Union, 
and in Canada, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and the islands beyond ; bat in 
this somewhat extended experience I have never found another town of 
which it can be said, as of Springfield, that a bicycler, starting at its central 
square or city hall, can ride without dismount for eight or ten miles towards 
all four points of the compass, — north, south, east, and west The streets of 
the nation's capital city are incomparably the cleanest and best paved ones to 
be anywhere found upon the North American continent ; but when a Wash- 
ington wheelman gets beyond the limits of the municipal asphalt, his choice 
of routes for a comfortable afternoon's ride becomes extremely limited. The 
New Yorker has, within easy reach, — north, south, east, and west of lus 
beloved Manhattan Island, — ^finer and more extensive macadamized roadways 
than any which Western Massachusetts can boast of ; but the four series of 
roads are disconnected by water from each other, as well as from the island, 
though many miles of good riding may be had on the northern part of the 
island itself. The State House at Boston stands on a hill beside the sea, but 
though the man who mounts its glistening dome beholds much water, he also 
overlooks a territory possessed of a larger " mileage " of smooth, hard road- 
way than exists elsewhere in any such small area of the New World. The 
entire suburban region, within a radius of 15 m. or so, is cut up by a network 
of roads which are almost all excellently macadamized, so that a bicycler may 
ride long distances without the necessity of dismounting or of frequently re- 
peating his course. The rolling country around Boston does, indeed, justify 
the laudations of its friends who extol it as " the paradise of American wheel- 
men." We have nothing elsewhere to equal it, or to be easily comparable to 
it. The region that ranks next to it in attractiveness must be " next by a 
very long interval " ; but, to the best of my knowledge and belief, that rank 
may fairly be assigned to the region around Springfield. Outside the Boston 
suburbs, I think there is no other place but this where the bicycle may be 
driven so far in so many directions without stop, and where such extensive 
and pleasant routes, which involve no repetitions, may be so easily laid out. 

" Purgatory," rather than " Paradise," however, would be a visiting bi- 
cycler's designation of that section of the city's chief thoroughfare on which 
he first tries his wheel when he emerges from the eastern portal of the rail- 


road station, for this is just about at the middle of that busiest mile of Main 
St.. where the macadam has been worn into ruts, and holes, and ridges ; where 
it is kept almost continuously muddy by regular watering-carts or casual 
showers, and where every one of the cross*walks causes a tremendous jolt 
This mile section of roadway, which stands in such crying need of a new top- 
dressing of povrdered stone, extends from Memorial Church, on the north 
(where the cyder turns to the left in seeking the northern entrance to the 
camp on Hampden Park, or the West Springfield route to Holyoke), to State 
St., on the south, which thoroughfare leads eastward up the Armory Hill, and 
is the old post road to Boston. The horse-car tracks run along it for a 
mile and a half, and, though the first half of this distance is up-grade, it is 
macadamized smoothly enough to be ridable for a bicycle. At the fork, 
where the horse-car tracks end, the left road should be taken, and again the 
left into the woods, at the next fork, 2} m. beyond. Thence the course ex- 
tends 4 m. in a pretty direct northeasterly line across the plain, after which a 
choice of several streets is offered in descending to the hotel in the manufact- 
uring village of Indian Orchard. The hill to the eastward may be easily 
ridden up, and the rider soon crosses the Chicopee river, at the Jenksville 
bridge, beyond which he can- proceed on the sidewalks for \ m. or more to- 
wards Three Rivers before being forced to halt. This point, where he stops, 
is upwards of 9 m. from the City Hall in Springfield, and marks the eastern- 
most limit of good riding. The whole distance may be done without dis- 
mounting, though at many seasons of the year an average rider would be un- 
likely to get across the sand plain without once or twice leaving the saddle. 
On the last Thursday of last December, when the sand was well packed to- 
gether with frost and ice, I myself rode without stop from the west end of 
the South bridge, which is i^ m. below the corner of Main and State sts., to 
the hotel in Indian Orchard. The time was an hour and a quarter, and the 
cyclometer recorded the distance as exactly 8 m. Its record between Jenks* 
ville and West Brookfield is 24 m., by either one of two routes, both of 
which are veir poor, and necessitate much walking through the sand. The 
route which I recommend as preferable leads through Three Rivers, Thorn- 
dike, and Ware ; while the one usually taken by tourists leads through North 
Wilbraham, Palmer, West Brimfield, and Warren. The point of separation 
is at the Jenksville bridge. Where the itian bound for Palmer turns to the 
right, instead of crossing the river ; and the two routes come together again 
at the pond, which lies a mile to the west of the hotel in West Brookfield. 
From that point to Worcester and Boston the roads are almost continuously 
ridable, and they generally supply very good riding. The best route from 
Worcester to Boston is through Shrewsbury, Northboro*, and Framingham. 

The northward ride from Springfield is the smoothest and prettiest one, 
however, and usually ends at the Holyoke House, 9 m. from the City Hall. 
The up-grades are few, and easily ridden in either direction, and there is 
nothing to prevent the veriest tyro from doing the whole distance without 


dismount, except occasional repairs to the road-bed. This consists for the 
most part of reddish gravel, containing clay enough to pack it firmly together ; 
and, though liable to be badly affected by the spring frosts or by long-con- 
tinued rains, it undoubtedly forms the best single stretch of country road in 
Western Massachusetts. The road-races of the bicycle club are run upon it, 
and its average smoothness is shown by the record of time made therein,— 38 
min. The tourist from Springfield should turn left from Main st. at the gray 
stone church, where the double-track of the horse-railroad terminates, and he 
may there advantageously take the concrete sidewalk for 30 rods or so to the 
railroad bridge. Descending past the entrance to the park, he turns left to 
the iron bridge across the Connecticut, and thence goes northward along the 
river road to Holyoke. He should not turn towards the river, however, at 
the two places in the road where signs point eastward to Chicopee. From 
the Holyoke House I have ridden westward over the canal bridges and rail- 
road track, and, on the concrete sidewalks, to the crest of the hill, on which 
stands the city hall, a massive structure of granite. Thence through the 
park, and by streets leading northward and westward, one may reach the old 
turnpike in Ireland Parish, at a point just above Craft's tavern, distant about 
2 m. from the Holyoke House. There are excellent views along this course, 
and I think that an expert rider might cover it all without a dismount, though 
I myself have never been able to conquer the long, winding Ewingsville hill, 
which forms a part of it, and which needs to be descended with considerable 
care. On reaching the turnpike I have ridden northward without stop for 
some 2 m., or to a point beyond the brook at the foot of the long descent. 
Two miles above here is the station at Smith's Ferry, and 2 m. further is the 
station miscalled Mount Tom, though that lofty peak stands far away to the 
west. The roadway of these 4 m. is the worst stretch which the bicycler will 
encounter on the west side of the river in touring from Hartford to Bellows 
Falls, being so soft and sandy as generally to forbid progress except on foot. 
From the Mount Tom station I have found fairly good riding to Easthamp- 
ton, 2 m., and an excellent road thence backward for a similar distance to a 
certain point on the ascent of the real Mount Tom. The last mile of the as- 
cent, ending at the half-way house, I accomplished on foot, but I think the 
descent towards Easthampton might be safely made on the wheel, and no 
stop be required before completing' the 3 m. The 2 m. of roadway leading 
downward from the half-way house to Craft's is softer than the other slope, 
and requires considerable walking; though the turnpike southward from 
Craft's continues good for about 2 m. to Gates's hill. The rider who can 
descend this safely, and ascend the shorter slope which succeeds it, will have 
no trouble in reaching the main river-road again, at the watering-trough be- 
low Ingleside, 6 ra. from the Springfield bridge. The mile between the 
trough and Gates's is rather difficult for one going northward, and, though I 
have ridden it all to the final hill, I have never tried that hill, and do not be- 
lieve it can be mounted. The view from this upper road is even finer than 



that from the smoother road below, and a northward descent into the latter 
may be made by the tourist who does not care to turn under the railway 
track towards Gate8*s. 

My recollection as a pedestrian of twenty years ago is that the main road 
{rom Easthampton to Northampton, 5 m., would be practicable for a bicycle ; 
and other wheelmen have told me that the meadow road, from Mount Tom 
station to Northampton, is for the most part ridable, and that they had little 
difficulty in proceeding thence through Hatfield and Whately to Deerfield. 
The route of my own first ride up the valley was less wisely chosen, how- 
ever, for I was forced to walk through 3 m. of sand before reaching Hatfield, 
and another mile of the same after leaving it. My advice to tourists, there- 
fore, is to take the train from Smith's Ferry to North Hatfield, as I have done 
on subsequent occasions. From that point to South Deerfield the distance 
by the ** east road " is 6 m., and by the " west road " only about three-quar- 
ters as far, though I have found the former to be preferable. Thence one 
may go most pleasantly without dismount for 7 m. or more to the Cheapside 
bridge, below Greenfield; and the road continues good to Bemardston, 
Brattleboro, and Putney. The distance to that point from Springfield, omit- 
ting the short railroad ride indicated, is 56 m., and I have wheeled it, with- 
out special effort, in a single day. On the following forenoon I occupied 
three hours and a half in slccomplishing the next 14 m. to Bellows Falls, 
where I took train over the mountain to Rutland, and wheeled thence west- 
ward to Whitehall, in the course of the afternoon, a distance of 25 m., 
whereof the first two-thirds supplied most excellent riding.* 

1 According to the report of L. B. Graves (League consul at Northampton, Feb., 18S4), the 
rood leading to WtUianuburg, 9 m., n. w., is a fairly good one, so that, on the return journey, it 
is sometimes possible to gel over it without a dismount. The distance has often been covered 
^ an hour. FoUowing the hor8e<ar tracks along Elm sL, up>hill from the Mansion House, 
and generally using the sidewalk, as the roadway is somewhat sandy and stony, the rider will 
reach the village of Florence, about 2\ m., where he should turn to the left of Cosmian Hall, 
aad take the second road, to the school house ; then turn to the right and descend a hill, cross a 
bridge, turn to the r^ht again and follow what is called the old river road directly to Leeds 
(4 m.), crossing the river on the way. Uaydenville (| ol), is reached by crossing the railroad 
trade, turning up>hill to left, and again turning left ^ m. beyond. Thus far the side-paths gen- 
erally supply the best riding, but from here to Williamsbuig, a m., the main road is good 
enough to be often traversed by moonlight. Good coasting is offered between Florence and 
Northampton on the return. At Haydenville, the tourist may take the Horse Mountain road 
(which is fairly good, with some steep hills that must be ridden carefully) to Whately, 4 m., and 
thesoe a nther inferior cross-road, through woods and swamps, to South Deerfield, a m., where 
he will meet the reguhr valley turnpike leading from Northampton to Greenfield. This round- 
about course between these two county seats is said to be pleasanter than the direct route 
thrmgh the sands of Hatfield. Turning to the right, near the Briggs House in Haydenville, 
^ tourist shoald turn left at the fork, and keep on near a brook in a valley ; then turn left 
It nat cross-roads, and after passing through Whately, take the right at the fork. The Hock- 
aaom road, s. e. from Northampton, about a ro., to the hamlet of that name just after crossing 
tW Connecticut river ferry, is usually sandy ; but the next 3 or 4 m., ending at South Hadley, 
vc better, though somewhat hilly towards the end. The tourist should keep along in sight of 


The westward route from Springfield is the shortest, and in some respects 
the most difficult, for there are several hills to be climbed, whereof the first 
is extremely tiresome, and there is said to be no good riding whatever 
beyond the western end of Franklin St., in Westfield, which is the extreme 
point to which a rider may go in that direction without dismount. The 
distance from Springfield city hall is lo m., and a combination of careful rid- 
ing and good luck seems to me necessary to enable a wheelman to get over 
it all without a stop. From the end of the iron bridge over the Connecticut 
the tourist continues westward along the north side of the Common, in West 
Springfield, and then northward a few rods to the post-office, where he turns 
westward again and soon reaches the big hill, which is rather difficult to 
climb, though its surface is smooth and hard. A quarter-mile beyond, where 
the left-hand road leads downward to the Mittineague railroad station, he 
must turn up-hill to the right, and a mile later he will descend to Block brook, 
and climb a much longer hill. In the course of the next mile he will en- 
counter the steepest descent of the route, and will cross the bridge over the 
railway ; crossing under it again, a little ways on, at the so-called deep-cut, 
and still again a half-mile westward. The road follows the tracks for a mile 
and a half, and then divides at Mill brook, the right-hand branch going under 
the tracks, and thence in a curve of 2 m. to the railway station in Westfield. 
The left-hand road, which is much the better one, crosses the brook and then 
the river, and in another mile crosses the river again and brings the tourist 
to the thickly-settled part of the town, though the central park is nearly a 
mile beyond; and the Pine Hill cemetery, which is the end of the smooth 
riding, is nearly a mile beyond the park. There are several miles of concrete 

river for about 2 m., then turn to r. at cross-roads and go direct to South Hadley, whtda is tiie 
seat of the well-known Mt. Holyoke Female Seminary. There he may either turn w., and 
cross the river at Smith's Ferry, or follow the direct road down to South Hadley Falls and 
cross by free bridge to Holyoke, say 5 or 6 m. From the ferry at Hockanum, the tourist turns 
eastward if he wishes to vi«t Mt. Holyoke, where a fine view may be had. The mouatain 
road is unsafe for bicycling, however, and the last few hundred feet of the ascent must be made 
by railway car or staur-dimbing. In going s. w. from Northampton to Easthamptcn, 4 or 5 m., 
the tourist should cross bridge at the foot of South st. hill, then taks sidewalk up-hill to end of 
walk, and turn at cross-roads ; keep on past the ice houses at Rodcy-HiU pond ; cross die brook 
and then the railroad, beyond which is a quarter-mile of deep sand ; keep straight ahead at 
the school house , descend a hill and cross a covered bridge just before entering Easthampt(»i, 
whose concrete sidewalks supply good riding. The road thidier is rather hilly and sandy and is 
at its best soon after a summer shower. The road s. from Northampton through tlve meadows 
to the Ox Bow (Mt Tom station) is also apt to be soft, so that, in the eariy spring and late 
autumn, the railroad track, to whidi it is parallel, is often chosen as affording better riding. 
Entrance may be had to this meadow road by turning left, through Maple St., after crossing 
the bridge at the foot of South st. hill. The road from Northampton to Amherst, n. e., 7 m., 
has been ridden in 40 min., but usually requires twice that amount of time. The character of 
the soil is sandy, with some stretches of day, and the side paths and walks supply most of the 
good riding. Hadley is the intermediate village, situated about 3 m. from the Mansion House, 
and the Connecticut river bridge is about half-way between. A long hill must be climbed just 
before readiing Amherst, and a good run may be made there on sidewalks to North Amherst 


sidewalks in Westfield, along which the bicycler may glide without need of 
dismounts, and the road leading to Southwick is said to be a fairly good one. 
At the dose of December, 1882, 1 wheeled from Westfield to Springfield with 
only one dismount, and that happened on the long upward climb after cross- 
ing the railroad bridge, though I understand that this hill has often been con- 
quered by other wheelmen.^ The road branching northward from the brow 
of the hill west of Block brook leads to the mountain picnic ground, called 

II myself rode op it, Sept i6, 1884, as the final act in a tiresome day's journey of 40 m., 
across the hills from Lee, ending thus a five days' toar from Newark, by way of Newburg and 
Poughkeepsie, about aoo m. I was forced to walk more on this last day than during all the 
previous four ; and the longest stretch of hopelessly deep sand was that which ended at the head 
of Franklin St., in Westfield. From the Morgan House, in Lee, I bad 2^ m. of good wheeling, 
to a big hill of sand ; 5^ m. beyond which, at the old tavern stand (West Becket), I turned 00 
down through the woods, to N. Blandford, instead of keeping the direct road (r.) to Otis, and at 
noon I reached the Mountain House in Blandford, where a fine view may be had. Though the 
grade is downward for the 8 m. thence to the end of Franklin St., I was 3^ h. in reaching that 
point; and I do not believe the joomey from Westfield towards Lee would be any easierj* An- 
other touiist, who pushed his bicycle over the Berkshire hills a day or two earlier than myself, 
reports as follows : " Williamstown to Lanesboro, 16 m. of rather soft road, requiring a whole 
forenoon. Obedient to a bad adviser (who told us to shorten our route to Springfield 6 m. by 
avoiding Pittsfield, which was our next objective point), we turned to the left, at the first cross- 
road beyond the hotel, and after two hours of alternate walking and rough riding, reached Dal- 
ton, 6^ m. A few miles farther on, the road becomes even worse, soon tvuning into a mere 
mountain path, hardly accessible to a man on foot ; and so we ventured upon the railway, and 
there found capital wheeling. Proceeding cautiously (on account of the projecting ties and 
the narrowness of the path), but at a fair rate of speed, we passed through Hinsdale and 
Washhigton and reached Becket about dusk, 13 m. from Dalton. On the morning of Sept. 15, 
we again took to the track, but the many cuts and culverts, together with the sharp lookout we 
were obliged to keep for trains, made riding anything but pleasant, and we were glad to arrive at 
Westfield (14 m.) with our bones still in their proper places." An earlier explorer (M. D. B., in 
B. Jy., Sept. 3, '81) gave similar testimony : " Beyond Pittsfield, a veritable via mala begins, 
and hardly ceases for the 40 m. thence to Westfield. To the summit of the mountain in North 
Becket (15 m.) but little of the sandy road can be ridden, and the 9 m. thence to Chester, over 
another mountain, must be traveled on foot. I rode from there to Westfield between the rail- 
road tracks.— a dangerous and desperate measure,— but the gently descending grade, and the 
fine scenery, were compensations for two or three heavy falls and the haunting presence of 
peril." As a curious offset to this, I may add the information given me by a credible witness, 
that he has several times driven a horee from Springfield to Peru (is ra. from Pittsfield,— 
Dalton and Hinsdale being intermediate towns), a distance of 4s m., in 6| h., and has made the 
return drive in 5^ h.,— passing through Russell, Huntington and West Worthington. The same 
rapid animal has also drawn him to the same point by a loiter and hillier route, through 
Northampton, Williamsburg, Worthington Comers and Worthington Center. Still another 
strange story concerning this rough route is contained in C. A. Hazlett's summary, " Notable 
Runs and Excursions of 1883 " {Ovimg, March, 1884, p. 454), thus : " On Sept. 19, William V. 
Mason, jr., of the Rhode Island Bicycle Club, made a run of 100 m., from Springfield to Hudson, 
by way of Russell ; and he returned, Oct is, from Hudson to Springfield, by way of Chester, 
113 ra. He reports the roads in fair condition, and the weather on both runs all that could be 
Mked. Bofh runs were made alone, and no special training had. He was in fine condition at 
the finish of both runs. Several headers taken, but none of any serious account." Additional 
details of these two very remarkable rides have been diligently sought for by me, but have not 
been supplied. 


Bearhole, about 2\ m. distant, and most of it is practicable for the bicycle. 
Very extended views may be had from the lofty ridge along which this road 
runs. The return route from Westfield may be still further varied by de- 
scending the hill at Mittineague, crossing the Agawam river, climbing the 
hill beyond, crossing again at the covered Agawam bridge, and proceeding 
thence in a straight line eastward to the old covered bridge at Springfield. 
The distance, 3 m., may be done without dismount, though the first half, end- 
ing at the Agawam bridge, rei^uires careful riding. Instead of the second 
half, another good route of equal length leads northward along the river 
across the railroad track, and thence eastward along the south side of the 
common in West Springfield to the iron bridge. The main street of the 
town extends a similar distance southward to the old bridge, and has a brick 
sidewalk which is continuously ridable, though no need exists of resorting to it 
except in muddy weather. Roughly speaking, the roads connecting the three 
bridges may be said to form an equilateral triangle, each side'of which is i\ 
m. Ibng ; and the whole circuit may be made in either direction without stop. 
The southward route from Springfield crosses the iron bridge into 
Agawam, about \\ m. below the city hall, and extends along the river bank 
for nearly 3 m. till it reaches the main road at Porter's distillery. I have 
ridden this course northward without a stop, when November frosts had stiff- 
ened the sand ; but I think that at most seasons of the year there are some 
soft places which can hardly be driven through. An excellent clay road ex- 
tends southward from Porter's through the town of Sufiield ; and in August 
last I rode down it for 7 m. until a new coating of gravel on the hill beyond 
the bridge, 2 m. north of Windsor Locks, forced my first dismount. Four 
long hills had to be climbed on this course, and I considered the act of rid- 
ing up the last and longest of them, which is directly opposite Thompsonville, 
quite a creditable feat. The two following miles of roadway were the 
smoothest of all, and commanded a fine view of the eastern side of the valley. 
From the old bridge over the Agawam, by the main road eastward along the 
river and then southward, the distance to Porter's distillery is 3 m., and the 
first two-thirds of it may be easily ridden in either direction without stop, over 
a road of clay and gravel, though two hills have to be climbed near the river. 
For a mile to the northward of Porter's the roadway is rather soft, and the 
eastern sidewalk supplies a preferable path ; but an expert rider might perhaps 
have the luck to reach the distillery without a dismount (6 m. from the city 
hall, by way of the North-end bridge), and he could then go at least 7 m. further 
without halting, and perhaps also to Windsor Locks.^ As a Hartford man 

lOo Dec. 4, 1884, I rode from West Spriogfield until stopped by the newly-laid stones of the 
railway-crossing below Windsor Locks (i6| m. in a h. 40 min.), except that I was foitxd to make 
one intermediate halt, on the frozen ruts of an up-grade beyond the little brook in the woods, 
about 10 m. from the sUrt and 4 m. south 6f Porter's. From the crossing I went without stop 
to the highest water-course of the long Windsor hill (5^ m. in 50 min.), which I never before so 
nearly succeeded in conquering. 



has wheeled up to this point without stop (13 m.)» it even seems possible that 
a bicycler might stay in his saddle for the entire route from Springfield to 
Hartford, 28 m., as here described. Indeed, I have heard it rumored that a 
Springfield man has really w&eeled to Hartford without stop, down the east 
side of the river, but I can hardly credit the story, because such a feat would 
seem to me more remarkable than anything yet known to have been accom- 
plished on a bicycle. The roads through East Hartford, East Windsor, 
Enfield, and Longmeadow, are for the most part soft and sandy, and though 
the bicycling tourist is cheered by many miles of good sidewalks, these are by 
no means continuous. I drove my wheel down this route, on the 9th of Jan- 
uary, over the frozen snow and with a strong north wind at my back (28 m.), 
in less than five hours ; but my progress along the same course in summer has 
been considerably slower. 

A southwesterly ride of 9 m. without a dismount may be had by way of 
the North and Agawam bridges, through Feeding Hills, toward Southwick 
ponds. Turning to the right after crossing the Agawam river, the left-hand 
road must be taken at the first fork, and a rather difficult hill ascended ; then, 
about a mile from the bridge, where four roads meet, a turn should be taken 
away from the telegraph poles, and the main road leading from Mittineague 
should be followed straight across the plain, 2^ m., to the town hall in Feed- 
ing Hills, and \ m. beyond it, when a turn should be taken to the south, and, 
after 2 m. more of level riding, another turn westward, to a short h!Il which 
causes a stop. About 5 m. beyond, after several other turns, the picnic- 
grounds between the ponds are passed. The main road is reached at the 
Methodist church, a mile westward, and the southward course from there 
continues smooth for 2 m. to Veits's tavern, just beyond the Connecticut line, 
where five roads come together. One of these leads to the old copper mine 
and prison on Turkey hill, in Simsbury, and is presumably ridable ; and the 
route thence to the river road in Suffield cannot be a difficult one. I was told 
that the northward course from the Methodist church, through Southwick to 
Westfield, was generally smooth and hard; and the "back-street" route 
from Feeding Hills to Westfield is also said to be practicable for the wheel. 
From the point about 3 m. southwest of Feeding Hills, where the Springfield 
rider is first forced to stop, he may return through Mittineague, climb its steep 
hill, coast down the long hill to the post-office, in West Springfield, and ascend 
the church hill (10 m.), without dismount. The view from the hill is a fine 
one, but its northern slope must be descended with care, on account of the 
loose gravel. The westward road from the church makes two southward 
turns in reaching Mittineague, but avoids the hills, and is all ridable, though 
usually requiring dismounts. 

The roads branching off towards Chicopee, at points i} m. and 2 m. above 
the church hill in West Springfield, are not as hard as the main road to Hol- 
yoke, but can usually be ridden to the bridge without dismount. The plank- 
ing of this bridge needs more attention than that of the two iron bridges at 


Springfield or the one at Holyoke, but is much better than that of the old 
bridge at Springfield, whose cracks threaten disaster to the tires of a careless 
rider. The village streets of Chicopee and Chicopee Falls are not particii- 
larly bad, but their numerous concrete sidewalks supply much pleasanter 
riding, and the curbings are not usually abrupt. The town hall in Chicopee 
stands f m. from the bridge, and the approach thereto, along the left-hand 
sidewalk of Exchange St., is uninterrupted. There is no need of a stop in 
crossing the road in front of it to the concrete walk leading up-hill to the 
bridge at Chicopee Falls, about 2 m. I myself, on the 25th of August, con- 
tinued across this bridge, and climbed the steep hill beyond it, but was forced 
to dismount at the end of the sidewalk soon after beginning the descent. 
This was at a point nearly 3 m. from the town hall, and the road keeps de- 
scending for 2 m. further, until it reaches the railroad crossing a few rods bc^ 
low the Willimansett station. The whole descent may be easily made with- 
out dismount, though hardly any riding would be possible on the upward 
slope. The main road leading back to the town hall, distant 4 m., is called 
Chicopee Street, and is entirely level, but is believed to be too soft for bi- 
cycling. In the other direction, for 2 m. along the riverside north of Willi- 
mansett, I found this road to be ridable, except a few short pitches, though none 
of it supplied good riding, and the whole would probably be impassable in 
bad weather. A mile of smooth riding on the sidewalks and bridge extends 
this route to the Holyoke House, whence a return may be made to Spring- 
field over the well-known course. From the town hall in Chicopee to the 
Memorial Church, 3^ m., one may easily go without dismount (the road being 
really an extension of Main St., and macadamized as far as the city limits), 
and, of course, the return from Holyoke to the city hall may be made by this 
route also without dismount. The northward ride would be less agreeable, 
on account of the need of climbing the Chicopee hill,— from which, by the 
by, a fine view of the valley farming-lands may be had. The route connect- 
ing Chicopee Falls with Indian Orchard is about 5 m. long, and nearly a 
quarter of it usually has to be traveled on foot. The extension of State St., 
beyond the terminus of the horse-car tracks, supplies good riding for 2 m. or 
so in the direction of Sixteen Acres ; and Walnut St., which branches south- 
ward from State at the corner of the Armory grounds, may likewise l?e easily 
followed for \\ m., to the water-shops, and twice that distance beyond into 
the region of East Longmeadow, whence it is likely enough that a practicable 
route might be found leading through Longmeadow proper, and so back to 
Springfield. The return from the water-shops may also be made by follow- 
ing the horse-car tracks through Central, Maple, and State sts. back to Main, 
mostly on a down grade ; or, if the cemetery be visited. Pine st. may be 
traversed thence to Crescent Hill, where a fine view may be enjoyed, and a 
winding descent be made thence to the region of South Main st. The steep 
slope of Ames's Hill, leading into Maple St., should be descended with cau- 
tion ; and the south sidewalk of Union st. should be taken by hill-climbers, 



as tltey approach the smnmit, or they will be unlikely to reach the summit. 
VisitiAg bicyclers should remember that the most commanding view of the 
whole Springfield region may be had from the tower of the United States 
Arsenal, and, also, that the smooth roads and walks within the government 
grounds are guarded by government muskets against the passage of bicycles. 
An tnapectton of the roads as outlined on the county maps may doubt- 
less suggest the exploration of other attractive bicycle routes in this region ; 
but the ones described in this present report are certainly numerous enough 
to sustain my opening assertion that the region is^ exceptionally well adapted 
for bicycling. Without going outside these roads, and without repeating his 
course upon them, a rider who starts at the city hall may lay out pleasant 
round-trip routes of any desired length. Thus, up the east side of the river, 
through Chicopee Falls and Willimansett to Holyoke and down the west 
side, through the old bridge and Water st. to the starting-point, supplies 21 
m., without a rod of repetition. This may be increased at will to 38, 29 or 
JO m., by taking one of the westward and southward routes through Aga- 
warn to Porter's distillery, and there turning back northward by the river 
road to the starting-point. Or a rider may continue down the west bank and 
aoss the river for the return journey at Thompsonville, or Enfield, or Wind- 
sor Locks, or Hartford, in which latter case his circuit will be about 75 m. 
long. The west-side route to the Holyoke House, thence westward to Ire- 
laud Parish, southward to Ingleside, eastward to Chicopee, and homeward 
through Carew, Chestnut, and Dwight sts., offers a circuit of about 22 m., 
with hardly more than a mile of repetition ; and a very skilful rider might, 
perhaps, do the whole distance without a stop. The simpler Chicopee cir* 
cuit, ridden in the same direction, may be easily done without dismount, 
whether restricted to 10 m. or increased to 12 ; or it may be increased to 17 
by the addition of Chicopee Falls and Indian Orchard on the east A west- 
ward circuit of 7 or 8 m., involving no repetitions — and, in the case of a 
good rider, no dismounts in either direction — may be made from the old 
bridge to Agawam bridge, to Mittineague bridge, to the West Springfield 
post-office, to the church on the hill, and thence northward or eastward down 
to the river-road leading back to the North bridge and the city hall. If this 
route be continued northward from the church to Chicopee, a man may keep 
his saddle for 15 or 16 m. before reaching the starting-point; and the length 
oC the Holyoke and Indian Orchard circuits can, of course, be increased by 
combination with this route. Assuming the ridable character of the roads 
(as yet unexplored by me) connecting Westfield with Southwick, and with 
Feeding Hills, a Springfield cycler has choice of a 32 m. or a 22-m. circuit in 
visiting the former village. Equally long southwestern circuits may be made 
horn Springfield to Southwick ponds, Simsbury, and Suffield, — the shorter 
one leading thence up the west bank of the river j the longer one extending 
across Enfield bridge and thence through East Longmeadow to the water- 
shops and the city halL 


The route by which a rider may, without dismount, reach the top of the 
church hill in West Springfield, from a point lo m. to the southwest, has al- 
ready been described ; but there will then be no obstacle to his easy progress 
to the Holyoke House, 7 m. further, and for another mile to the south end of 
the concrete sidewalk in South Hadley Falls, making 18 m. straightaway 
without stop. Or, if he were strong enough to climb westward from the 
Holyoke House and surmount the Ewingsville hill, he might even cover 21 
direct miles of roadway before the sands below Smith's Ferry forced a halt. 
From the church hill in West Springfield northeastward to the town hall in 
Chicopee, and thence southward to the bridge below Springfield, a distance 
of 10 m., no obstacle exists to cause a dismount ; and as it is sometimes 
possible to continue thence 3 m. to Porter's distillery and 7 m. to the covered 
bridge, a lucky rider might chance to do the 30 m. without stop, though he 
would finish at a point hardly a dozen miles distant from the point of start- 
ing. Still a third variation of this route, for a long stay in the saddle, would 
lead through Feeding Hills, West Springfield, Chicopee, Springfield, and 
Indian Orchard, to Jenksville. The distance is 27 m., and the chance of com- 
pleting it without stop is better than in the case of the 30-m. and 21-m. routes. 

I should be glad to see the competitions of the local club take the form 
of road races, wherein the victory should be given not to the fastest rider, 
but to the one who covered the most miles of roadway without leaving his 
saddle or repeating his course. The effect of such contests would be to fix 
public attention upon the fact that the region has such an unusually large 
proportion of good roads as to make it an attractive place for bicyclers to 
visit and explore individually, and an appropriate place for the race-course 
and camp-ground, which may be annually made the scene of their largest col- 
lective gatherings and exhibitions. Yet, the proportion of good roads ought 
to be still larger, and the quality of the best of them ought to be still better. 
Let us hope that the ultimate influence of the " tournament " will be in the line 
of helping bring to pass both of these desirable things. 

" The Atlas of Hampden County " (N. Y. ; J. B. Beers & Co., 36 Vesey St., 1874, pp. 70, 
price 1 10) has proved of service in the preparation of this chapter. Wall maps of Springfield 
and Westfield (j^ each) are also issued by the same publishers. G. H. Walker & Co., 160 
Tremont St., Boston, publish pocket maps of " Hampshire and Hampden " (X8S4, 38 by aa in.) 
and " Franklin County " (1885, 28 by 18 in.), whose scale, t^ m. to x inch, and price, asc, oi^ht 
to attract the patronage of bicyclers. These, and the excellent map of "the Berkshire Hilk," 
which is distributed gratis by the Berkshire Life Insurance Company, of Pittsfield, are de- 
scribed more fully on p. 112. A small map of the city may be found in the Springfield Directoiy, 
which can be consulted at any drug-store; and the same map is appended to King's " Hand- 
book of Springfield," an autliority for those who wish to go into the details of local history and 
institutions. The Springfield City Library, in a handsome building on State St., ocmtains 
50,000 volumes, which may be freely consulted ; and there also, in a finely funiished readii^ 
room, the visitor may without charge examine all the newspapers and periodicals of the day. 

*' Handbook " is a rather deceptive title for the volume just alluded to, which is an octavo of 
394 pp., 8^ by 6 in. in size, containing more than 150 views and portraits, with indexes of 2,700 
references. lu sub-title, " a series of monographs, historical and d e scriptive, edited by Moses 


King,** gives a better idea of ito importance, for it is, as the preface says, ** the most pretentious 
work ol its kind yet issued for any American city of 35,000 population." It was published in 
October, 1884, by James D. Gill, at the subscription price of $1.50, which was afterwards in- 
creased to $3 ; but a " clearing out sale " in May, 1885, caused its reduction to $1, which seems 
remarkably cheap for such a laige and expensively-aude book. Its price is likely to be ad- 
ipanoed again to $1.50, however, as soon as the edition is nearly exhausted. The 32 chapters, or 
" monographs,'* represent the wOTk of as many different citizens ; and the three entitled '' Sur- 
roundings of Springfield" (Rev. J. W. Harding), " Highways and Byways" (Heman Smith) 
and "Traffic and Transportation" (M. F. Sweetser), covering pp. 51-92, are q>ecial]y recom- 
mended to the study of wheelmen. I cannot resist the temptation of assuring them, on the 
anthority of the first-named writer, that my native town, during the eighteenth century, " ex- 
ceeded Springfield in population by about 800, and was, indeed, in most respects, ^he leading 
town in Western Massachusetts. At the east end of its old conunon, where now stands the 
abutment of the Kght and spacious North-end Bridge (said to be the noblest highway structure 
in the country), there was a ship-yard, in which were built the sloops ' West Springfield * and 
' Hampshire' and the schooner 'Trial/ ranging from 60 to 90 tons burthen. The common 
itself v^aa the camping-ground of two British armies. Gen. Amherst, with 7,000 men, halted 
here for two days and two nights, on his march to Canada ; and the captured army of Gei^. Bor- 
goyne was encamped on the same spot for a similar time, while on the way to Boston,— ^when 
Gen. Reidesel, the Hessian officer, was the guest of Parson Lathrop. Here, too, Capt. Luke 
Day drilled his insurgents in ' Shays's Rebellion.' " The marks of the bullets with which Gen. 
Lincdn's troops dispersed those rioters, in January, 1787, may still be seen upon, the quaint stone 
monufloent, on State St., Springfield, just beyond the s. e. comer of the Armory grounds, where 
it has stood since 1763, to point the way to Boston. Another historic landmark which deserves 
notice from the sentimental tourist is the great elm in the s. e. comer of Court Square, which 
gave shade, a century ago, to the " huge wooden tavern " where Zenas Parsons offered lodging 
to Washington (Oct. ax, 1789); and the old house itself still stands, near the w. terminus of 
Court St. The present main highway eastward through the State was formerly called the Bay 
Path (£ e.f the path to Boston, on the bay) ; and the hap-hazard manner in which all the other 
Springfield streets were laid out and named, is recorded by Heman Smith in a way that presents 
an amusing contrast to the " half-mile square " regularity which governed the New Haven 
foonders of the same period, as I record on p. 132. Charts of Springfield in 1827 and 1883 ac- 
company this chapter, and the " Directory " map of it in 1884 (19 by 17 in., i} m. to i in., colored 
by precincts,) is appended to the vohune. My last sxtract from its text shall be the following re- 
marks made by President Dwight, of Yale, concerning his " travels " in 1803 : "The roads of 
the Connecticut Valley were generally good throughout a great extent. Hence the inhabitants 
were allured to an unusually extensive intercourse with each other ; and a multitude of stran- 
gers have at all times been induced to make this valley the scene of their pleasurable traveling." 

In the road-race of the Northampton Bicycle Club (Oct. 35, '84), the route was from the 
oor. Main and South sts., in that town, down Maple St., by meadow road parallel to railway, 
which was crossed at Mt. Tom station, and so, past Smith's Ferry, direct to west end of North 
bridge at Springfield ; whence a return was made on the same track to the starting point. 
Whole distance, by Butcher cyclometer, 33^ m. Race was started at 10.15 a. m., and was won 
by E. E. Davis, in 3 h. 26^ min.; C. H. Howard, second, by 23 min.; W. L. Larkin, third, by 
6| min.; L. L. Campbell, fourth. The men were started 10 min. apart, and at the bridge the 
two first named (first and second starters) were just lo min. apart ; while Campbell (third) had 
gained 2 im'n. on them and Larkin (fourth) had gained i min. on Campbell. The latter rode 
slowly (m returning, because of a cramp in the arm. The only rests taken were at the bridge ; 
and the only places where much walking was enforced were the sandy stretches near Smith's 
Ferry, and the up-grade of the long hill, about 2 m. below there. This seems to me a remarkably 
swift race, considering the character of the track ; and I regret that no record was kept of the 
dme reqtiired to cover the worst part of it, — ^between the hill just named and Northampton. 

The course of the longest straightaway day's ride yet taken in America (July 8, '84) led 


tbroagh " Springfield and its environs '' ; and a report o£ it may, therefore, be appropriatdy ap- 
pended to the present chapter. The rider was a member of the Meriden Wheel Qub, William 
Collins (b. August 37, 1853), whose record for the year was 2,700 m. on a 52-in. Expert, " the 
actual running expenses of which for 3,500 m. were less than |(i, oil included." He began 
riding in the spring of '83, but kept no record for first two seasons. Leaving Meriden at mid- 
night, carrying Excelsior cyclometer but no lantern, though the moon was obscured by clouds, 
he went through Berlin Center and New Britain to Hartford, at 3.45, where he crossed the river 
and took the east side route to Springfield (48 m.),'at 6.15 a. m. "At no level place on this coune 
did sand cause a dismount, except once on a side path, under the pine trees ; " and, on other 
occasions, he has *' ridden up all the hills. '^ After a' halt of ] h. for breakfast, he invceeded to 
Pahner at 9.40; was accompanied thence to West Brimfield by Mr. Chandler; reached East 
Brookfield at 12.30(85 m.); stopped x 11 for dinner; Worcester at 3.30 (105 m.); Ayer Junc- 
tion at 8; Pepp>erell at 20. This is only 20 m. from Nashua, but he added a or 3 m. by 
wandering from the proper track on the way thither, so that the end was not reached there until 
12.25 A. M. The record was then 155 ol, whereof less than 5 m. belonged to July 9. " Durii^ 
this last stage of the journey a heavy mist or light rain prevailed, and three headers were taken 
in the sand. The only other header was by daylight, before reaching Springfield. Weather was 
cool and cloudy, with wind rather against me, but not strong enough to have an ill e£EecL The 
roads between Palmer and Worcester are, as you say, the poorest stretch between New Yoik 
and Nashua ; but, as I expected to find them worse, the fact that they were only poor en- 
couraged me to kick onward. Between Clinton and Ayer Junction I found a magnificent 
stretch of road, — almost like a race-track for 11 m., — and this put new life into me. I was tired, 
of course, when I reached Nashua, but not exhausted. Perhaps it is worth adding to the 
record that I have never used ardent spirits or tobacco in any shape." 

Another straightaway run on this same course (130 m. in 22^ h., which included 7.\ h. de> 
voted to riding 43 m. additional by train), wras reported to me by Dr. N. P. Tyler, League coxk- 
sul at New Haven, whose day's ride of 107 m. between Springfield and that dty may be found 
described in the next chapter, as well as his long stay in the saddle (35 m.) on the difficult course be- 
tween W. Haven and the Saugatuck (pp. 138, 149). The following is condensed somewhat from 
the record as printed in the IVfuel^ Jan. 23, '85 : "Leaving New Haven, at a. 15 on a dear, calm 
afternoon (Oct. 19, '84), with McDonnell cydometer and very small lantern, I reached Meriden, 
21 m., in 3^ h., and rested \ h. for supper ; then went through Berlin to New Britain at 7.35 p. 
M., 33 m. I was obliged to light my lantern 2 m. out of Meriden and ride slow, on account ot 
darkness, reaching Hartford at 9.10, 43 m. Leaving there i h. later, after a hearty supper, I 
took the w. side of river, going up through Agawam, and reaching Springfield at 3.53 a. m., 72 
m. Out of Spring^eld, by way of Boston turnpike, I found sand, practically unridaUe ; and 
after a few miles of this, I took to the railroad tracks, and made good time to Ezist Brookfield 
(8.30, 108 m.) ; where, being ordered off the track, I boarded the train due at 8.37 and rode as far 
as S. Framingham, from which point I had heard the roads were good. They proved, in fact, 
like a race course ; and, mounting at 11.03, I rolled off the first z6 m. by 13.06. Then, taking a 
wrong road into the dty, I consumed } h. in doing the last 6 m. ; and I reached Pemberton Square 
(office of the Bi. World)^ at 13.45 p. m. of Oct. 30, with a cydometer record of 130 m. to repre- 
sent an actual riding time of 17! h. After a bath and dinner, I rode to the Reservoir widba 
friend, going several times around it, and back, a total of 13 m. My machine was a 51-in. Radge 
racer, weighing 36^ lbs., without brake (Lillibridge saddle); and it was in perfect condition at 
the end of the 143 m., though it had had neither oil nor wrench at any time on the journey." 

The League consul at Westboro', F. O. Swallow (b. Dec 16, 1854), pharmacist, supplies for 
me the following report : " On Nov. 4, '83, I wheeled from here to the dub house on Union 
Park, cor. Tremont St., Boston, without leaving the saddle,— 41} m. in 3 h. 48 min. The first 
31 m. (3 h. 38 min., or an average of xi} m. to the h.) were straightaway, and induded 8m. 
which I had never before traversed ; the next 6} m. represented three circuits of the upper basin 
of Chestnut Hill Reservoir ; and I went thence directly to the dub house for my first stop. My 
swiftest riding was between South Framingham and the Reservoir, at the rate of 13 m. an hour." 



" Thames," the historic name of a more famous English stream, is ap- 
plied in Connecticut to nothing else than the final section of a river or con- 
fluence of rivers, stretching entirely across the State, from the Sound to 
Massachusetts. At Norwich^ the easterly branch takes the name of Qulne- 
bav^ and the railroad for Worcester follows its general course, until the 
stream bends westward and finally disappears in little brooks of Hampden 
county at Brimfield, near the feeders of the Chicopee river, flowing in the 
other direction. An easterly branch of the Quinebaug, called French river, 
similarly sinks away into the ponds of the border-towns of Worcester county. 
The westerly branch of the Thames at Norwich is named Natchaug, and its 
westerly branch, above Willimantic, takes the name of that town, which name 
afterwards gives place to Middle river, Furnace brook, and Roaring brook; 
and all three of these feeders take rise on the border of Massachusetts. 
Mashapaug Lake, just below the same border, has an outlet called Bigelow 
river, which forms another terminus of the Natchaug, though shorter branches 
of this are called Mt. Hope river, Fenton river and Still river. Hop river, a 
western parallel of the Willimantic branch of the Natchaug, joins it near that 
town ; and from there northward to Massachusetts (about 25 m.) the Willi- 
mantic river is closely adjoined by the Northern railroad, which also rims 
alongside the west bank of its outlet, the Thames, for the dozen miles below 
Norwich; The eastern border of the State is nearly 50 m. long, and the little 
Pawcatuck river serves as a boundary for the 8 m. nearest the Sound. 
Parallel to this stream, and about a dozen miles west of it, is the Thames, a 
really noble sheet of water, whose scenic beauties I like to imagine as a 
magnificent aggregate of all the lesser attractions which may characterize the 
wide-stretching network of littler rivers whereof it forms the confluence and 
culmination. Shut in by lofty hills, — many of them heavily wooded, — and 
with occasional rocky promontories or headlands projecting into its broad ex- 
panse, there is a certain majesty about it which does not attach to any section 
of its distinguished namesake, though I recall the placid beauties of the 
English Thames as something very dear to me. 

I have never attempted any inland wheeling in eastern Connecticut \ but 
its map shows that roads closely adjoin all the streams which I have cata- 
logued as converging southward from the Massachusetts border, so that the 
tourist who simply follows the current of any one of those streams will ad- 

iFnnn TfU Sprmgjitld WiMbntnU GautU, Jane, 1885. 


vance in a fairly direct line towards the coast. As all English roads lead to 
London, so all these river-roads lead to New London, — a little old-fashioned 
city (pop. 12,000), sleeping serenely on the west bank of the Thames, and 
rarely disturbed by anything more serious than regretful dreams of the brave 
old days when fleets of adventurous whale-ships made its name well-known in 
the world of trade. " I found very fair wheeling there in July," says a report 
which I printed in 1880 ; " the favorite route leading from the city hall and 
post-office, easterly through State st. and southerly through Bank st, for 
nearly f m. ; then east and south along the shore-road to the Pequot House, 
nearly 2 m., and to the light-house, \ m. beyond. The whole distance may be 
traversed in either direction without dismount ; and the two miles or so of 
shore-road, being composed of powdered oyster-shells, is as pleasant a place 
for a short spin as one need wish for." Local riders assured me, three years 
later, that they had occasionally gone northward along the river as far as 
Norwich without any serious trouble, but had never extensively explored the 
shore of the Sound, either to the east or to the west, — because of a general 
impression that the roads were sandy and unridable. I was told, too, that 
certain parts of the road leading through Niantic and South Lyme, were occa- 
sionally flooded at high-tide ; and I was recommended to take the hiliier, 
inland road, as suppying the preferable westward course — at least to the 
Connecticut river. 

It was on the morning of the last day of June, 1883, — ^four days after the 
completion of my touring experiences with the Down East Party, at Mount 
Desert (Chapter XX.), — ^that I faced westward from New London on my 
wheel ; and, as I silently turned my back upon the quiet old town, within 
whose limits and in whose behalf I had silently " struggled for the unattam- 
able " during the final week of six successive Junes, I felt both the regret 
which always oppresses a man when conviction comes that his ideal is un- 
attainable, and the relief which always accompanies the consciousness that a 
long struggle is ended. My struggle had been to provide an ideal manage^ 
ment for the annual race between the representative crews of New England's 
two oldest colleges, and to separate from it all subsidiary rowing contests, be- 
cause of their tendency to complicate the problem of providing a clear course 
upon a navigable stream. In lack of legal authority for controlling the river's 
surface, " moral suasion " must be depended upon for the enforcement of the 
needed regulations ; and this ceases to be a power to conjure with, just as soon 
as the rowing of small races in safety has deadened people's sensibilities to 
the truth that the most elaborate safeguards should be taken to avert dis- 
aster in the rowing of larger ones. In 1878, when "the mayor and leading 
citizens " invited me up to New London (to secretly serve as deus ex nuukina 
in helping them demonstrate the possibility of successfully managing, under 
extraordinarily difficult conditions, an event which had always been mis- 
managed elsewhere, on courses much more easily controlled), I found every, 
one ready to accept without question the minutest details of the precautions 


which I, in the name of the local committee, promulgated for the government 
of the river. The unanimous chorus in praise of New London management, 
which the newspapers chanted after the event, was the more significant be- 
cause of its contrast to their denunciations of previous mismanagement on 
other courses in former years ; but though it was repeated in the season fol- 
lowing, and again, and again, or until the exceptionally perfect government of 
the Thames course came to be taken for granted, as a universally recognized 
fact which needed no comment, — my eyes were never thereby blinded to the 
dangers and difficulties which beset the management. The distance of its ad- 
vance ahead of all previous efforts, as judged by outside critics, represented 
approximate perfection ; but, as judged by me, with an inside knowledge of 
its actual defects and possibilities, this great advance seemed less important 
than the distance by which the management still fell short of my ideal stand- 
ard. The final abandonment of this ideal as unattainable was forced upon 
me by the stupid persistence of one of the competing colleges in bringing 
subsidiary contests to the river, and thereby impairing the popular belief in 
the necessity of any rigid rules like " No unofficial boats to be in motion at 
the time of the race." The extent to which these wretched little side-shows 
demoralized public opinion was made plain by the fact that the Collector of 
the Port who, in '78, vigorously proclaimed for me, through the columns of 
his newspaper, the necessity of obeying the rule just quoted, openly violated 
it in '82, by running a private steam-tug in the wake of the race. This act 
was a disheartening token that my ideal of good-management was never likely 
to be realized ; and when, a year later, I learned that the sagacious railway 
superintendent who, from the outset, had put at my command the men, mate- 
rial and money needed to effect a respectable result, was about to remove 
from the State, I definitely gave up my " struggle for the unattainable," as 
aforesaid. I abandoned my dream of creating '* an ideal environment " for 
the annual boat race. As I turned my back upon the city, that summer morn- 
ing, I also resolutely put behind me all thought of ever again attempting to. 
realize the great scheme which had possessed my mind for more than a 
dozen years. I saw that life was too short. From that day forward, I have 
ridden no other hobby than the bicycle 1 

I had to walk with it, however, up the hill leading westward from New 
London at a point a little beyond where the shell-road for the light-house, as 
before described, branches off to the left. At the fork, 1} m. further, where 
the left road points for Jordanville, I took the right, reached a roadside well 
of excellent water in 2 m., and Niantic river, 2 m. beyond, at 10 o'clock. The 
track was sandy up to this point, but afterwards it grew harder, and the side- 
walks and paths were generally good, — so that riding rather than walking 
was the rule. A mile beyond the river, I passed the post-office and store of 
Flanders (East Lyme), and at the school house in the fork of the roads, 2\ m., 
I turned to the right, passed Rogers pond, 3 m. ; reached the main street of 
Old Lyme, 2 m., found good riding on the w. sidewalk as far as the store and 


church, I m. ; and got to Clark's hotel, at the ferry on the Connecticut riTcr, 
I m., at I o'clock. I had been 5 h. in doing the 17 m., and, as I indulged in no 
very long stops, a poor average of roadway is indicated. The clusters of laurel 
blooming luxuriantly in the woods, and from high rocks overhanging the 
road, gave that forenoon's route a rather pleasant place in my memory, how- 
ever. A row-boat summoned by a horn from the other shore, took me across 
the river, after dinner ; and the necessity of climbing several cherry trees and 
of halting for a shower at Saybrook Junction (2 m.) resulted in my leaving 
that station as late as 4 o'clock. The next hour brought me to the church 
and post-office in Westbrook (5 m.) ; and a similar time and distance took me 
past the Morgan School in Clinton (with its monument to mark it as a rest- 
ing place of Yale College in 1705), to the corner or street crossing, where I 
left the main road, and wheeled down to the shore (i m<), in order to spend 
the night at the Bacon House. The houses and sidewalks or paths were 
pretty nearly continuous during this afternoon's route, instead of exceptional, 
as during the forenoon's ; and I found one specially good stretch of 3 m., 
after leaving Saybrook Junction. It was here that I completed my 7,ocx)th 
m. ; and my record for June (20 riding days, in N. Y., Mass., Me. and Conn.), 
was just 400 m., whereof the repetitions amounted to not more than 50 m. 
My afternoon's progress would have been faster except for the mud which 
was caused by the shower ; and the entire track from Saybrook to New Haven 
may be called continuously ridable. 

I had an extremely pleasant ride to New Haven, the following forenoon 
(27 m. in 5 h.), through the clear, bracing air and bright sunshine, on roads 
quite free from dust and mud. From the corner in Clinton to the flagpole in 
Madison (4 m.)» I kept mostly on the sidewalks, and I was i h. in wheeling 
thence to the green in Guilford (5 m.), where I decided to leave the turnpike 
in favor of the shore road, and so followed the telegraph line out from the 
s. w. corner of the green and turned 1. with the poles at the first fork. The 
road across the marshes supplied goodish riding, though it is overflowed when 
the tides are very high. On a hill on Leete's Island (3 m.), I stopped before 
a little gravestone at the left of the road to copy the inscription : " Simeon 
Leete, shot here by the Enemy, 18 June, 1781, ae. 29," and then I hastened on 
to the station at Stony Creek (2 m.), whence to the green in Branford (4 m.), 
I found the riding almost continuously good, in spite of the hills. From there 
I went without stop to the summit of the big hill (2 m.), and again without 
stop to the watering trough near Tomlinson's bridge (3J m.), by which I 
entered New Haven.^ The dock of the New York steamboats is just besidt 

1 1 believe this is the only one of the old cities in America, whose street-system was definitely 
planned and fixed at the very beginning. The well-to-do and eminently-respectable band of 
emigrants who founded New Haven, two and a half centuries ago, laid out the place in the form 
of a half-mile square, bounded by State and York sts., running nearly n. and s., and Grove and 
Geof^e sts., running nearly e. and w. This tract was divided into nine squares of equal size, by 
Church and College sts., parallel to the first pair, and Chapel and Elm sta., parallel to the second 


this briclge ; and I rode from it without dismount to the city hall on Church 
st^ facing the green, — ^my route being alongside the car tracks to Wooster St., 
through that., 1., and its prolongation, over the railway bridge, then a few 
rods U to the head of Crown St., which soon crosses Church st at right 
angles. All three of these streets, and many others in the city are macadam- 
ized ; and, as a very large number of the New Haven sidewalks are without 
abrupt curbs at the crossings, long rides may be taken continuously on their 
bricks or flagstones. Oyster-shelb supply a smooth surface for several of the 
suburban roads, — €.g., the one to Lake Saltonstall, which I should have men- 
tioned as a pretty sheet of water that I passed after descending the big 
hill west of Branford, whose roads are of red clay. I might also have made a 
pleasant detour along another shell-road, if I had turned 1. at the crossing, 
about I m. before reaching Tomlinson's bridge, and gone southward, along 
the ridge overlooking the harbor, to Morris Cove (3 m.) ; or, if I had turned r. 
at the same crossing, I should have had a similar smooth track to Fair Haven 
(2 m.), where the river may be crossed, and entrance be made to the city by 
other shell roads. 

I had entered the city in that way eleven weeks previously, on the day 
(April 17, *%2!i when I began my fifth season as a tourist, by riding down from 
Hartford, 42 m. ; and the stretch of shell-road from Montowese to Fair Haven 
supplied the only decent riding I had during the last section of the journey. 
The trick-rider, D. J. Canary, accompanied me, that afternoon, from Meriden 
to Wallingford, which probably accounts for my doing the distance (7^ m.) in 
so short a time as i h., as well as for my having two side falls in sand ruts, — 
for these I should not have attempted to plow through, had I been alone, in- 
stead of trying to follow the lead of such a distinguished " stayer." We did 
not really enter the town, for our road was alongside the pond which lies just 
west of it ; and I found that the road grew sandier from that point southward. 
About I m. on, I turned 1. from the straight pike for New Haven, and, after 
much walking, reached the church in North Haven (5 m.), and finally (3 m.) 
the hdped-for shell-road before named. I was almost 2 h. in getting across 
the 6 m. below Wallingford, and I do not recommend the route. Eight 
months later (Dec. 12), I used a part of the same track, in riding from Meri- 
den to Bridgeport (7 a. m. to 6 p. m., 3S m.), when an inch of fresh snow had 
added a new element of danger to the frozen ruts. From the Winthrop 
House to the end of the sidewalk on Cook av. (r m.), and thence to the rail- 
pair ; and the four streets last named therefore bound the central square of the nin;, which 
fonns the city green. The other eight have each been subdivided into four smaller squares ; but 
thb system of symmetrical rectangles has not been maintained in building the numerous addi- 
tions which have made New Haven rank next in size to Boston among the cities of New Eng- 
land. Many of the modem streets take an oblique direction from the borders of the original 
" half-mile square," so that it now appears on the map as the central and most regular feature 
m a large area of territory which has been pretty solidly built upon. An excellent hand-book 
for the visitor is " Yale and the City of Elms " (i2 mo, pp. 200, heliotypes, cloth, $1), compiled 
by W. £. Decrow, a graduate of the college in '81, and published by him at Boston, in '83. 


way calvert (2} m.), I made fair progress. At the fork, 2\ m. on» where I 
turned 1. towards Wallingford in April, I went up-hill to the r., and rejoined 
the main road again in i m., near the stone marked "' X. m. to N. H." I took 
the 1. at the fork where the r. leads to Hamden, and I turned squarely to the 
1. about 3 m. below the stone. Much walking was required during the 3 h. 
which I gave to the 9^ m. ending at this point ; but the next 2 m. were mostly 
ridable and brought me near the railway station at North Haven, where, with- 
out crossing the tracks, I turned r. and proceeded along the side paths to 
New Haven (7^ m.) at noon. At the fork, where the sidewalks of the main 
street in West Haven terminate, and where, in previous trips, I had turned L 
for the shore road, I tried the experiment of turning r., over the railway. 
An experience of ij^ h. on rough and hilly roads (there had been no snow-fall 
in this region, but the sun had sufficed to make considerable mud) carried me 
5 m. to a junction with the turnpike at the brook 2 m. from Milford, where a 
sign says "7 m. to N. H." The first 5 m. of this is, noted in my chapter on 
" Winter Wheeling," as " a straight stretch through a sandy, deserted and 
altogether uninteresting country, — perhaps the meanest section of the entire 
tour, — and I was I h. in getting over it." The turns and windings of the 
route just described, however, are so numerous, and there are so many forks, 
that a tourist who tried it in approaching New Haven would be apt to go 
astray. I recommend, therefore, that, in leaving Milford for the city, the 
shore road be taken, — ^by turning r. from the n. end of the green. 

When I started out through the snow-covered streets of Meriden, that 
morning, my plan was to follow the advice of some New Haven riders, who 
told me of a good road leading through the hills to Mt. Carmel, from a cer- 
tain point in the turnpike near Wallingford ; but I managed to miss it, and so 
kept straight down the Quinnipiac, as before reported. A Meriden tourist 
also writes : " I recommend any one coming here from New Haven to take 
the first road to the r., n. of Mt. Carmel, as the route through Cheshire is 
more indirect and sandy." That route, with all its faults, however, I have 
found preferable to either of the two other paths that I traversed in "83 be- 
tween Wallingford and New Haven. The chapter on " Winter Wheeling " 
describes the road to Cheshire, and thence directly to New Britain ; but in 
April, '84, I rode from New Haven to Meriden, and back again, by the 
Cheshire route, and I tried it a third time (Dec. 5, '84) as a part of a day's 
tour from Meriden to Bridgeport, 40 m. From the Cheshire Academy the 
tourist should go eastward \\ m., northward along a smooth ridge \ m., follow 
telegraph poles around a curve to 1. and then r., on a down grade, to bridge, 
i\ m.; turn there to r., and at sawmill turn 1. and follow pleasantly shaded 
road along a brook to pond (2 m.), where he should not cross bridge at 1., but 
keep right on for i m. to South Meriden (Hanover), though, on the outskirts 
of this, he will turn 1. at the road which comes directly over the hill from the 
sawmill. Thence to Meriden is 2 m., ridable without dismount I was 2 h. 
in getting from Cheshire to Meriden, on the first occasion (which was my last 



day on " No. 234 "), and Pope cyclometer called the distance 8 m. ; but, re- 
turning along the same route ten days later (my first ride on " No. 234, Jr."), 
I covered it in i h. 20 min., and Butcher cyclometer gave the distance as 9 m. ; 
which it increased to 9J m., on my third trial in December. On each of these 
journeys toward Cheshire I had to walk for nearly i m. on the sandy up- 
grade leading southward from the bridge. I wheeled from Cheshire through 
Whitneyville to New Haven (14J m.) in 2 h., though the surface had grown 
definitely softer during the ten days since I had tried it in the other direction 
(2J h. ); but in December I rode from Cheshire through Mt. Carmel to Center- 
▼ille without stop (8 m. in i h.), and then made the mistake of turning r., in 
order to enter thie city through Dixwell av., which is usually recommended by 
New Haven cyders, as being I m. shorter than the Whitney av. route. 

I say " mistake," because I found that the dirt sidewalks, which supply 
a smooth connection between Centerville and Dixwell av, in milder weather, 
had become muddy by the action of the sun upon the frost ; while the road- 
way itself was so sandy as to be barely ridable. It would have been better 
for me if I had kept straight ahead by the road which passes Lake Whitney, 
for I might have traversed it without dismount ; and I advise all strangers, 
wheeling between New Haven and Meriden, to take that route, whatever be 
the weather. No such stranger should fail to make the ascent of East Rock, 
which is now the distinguishing feature of a magnificent public park, supplied 
with macadamized roads, whose grades were determined by careful surveys 
and engineering. Orange st, stretches in a perfectly straight line from Crown 
St., in New Haven, to the bridge at the base of the Rock, where the ascend- 
ing road begins ; but, from the parallel thoroughfare, Whitney av., a cross- 
street may be taken, just s. of Whitneyville, to a little swing-ferry, which will 
land the tourist very near the same point. My only ascent of this new park 
road was made on foot (Feb. 22, *85), and though most of the grades seemed 
quite gentle, there was a rather sharp one near the summit which I thought 
(however easily it might be surmounted separately) would be likely to stop the 
average rider who reached it in the weary condition caused by a mile of contin- 
uous climbing. I am told, however, that the entire ascent has been several 
times made without stop, by Dr. Tyler and other New Haven riders. From 
the north side of the eminence, a descent may be made to the road for North 
Haven, which is just at the foot of it ; and if any tourist, in wheeling between 
Meriden and New Haven, insists upon trying that road (in spite of my asser- 
tion that the route through Centerville and Mt. Carmel is far preferable), let 
me remind him that a passage through this beautiful park is in the direct line 
of his course. Let me remind every sentimeiital tourist, indeed, that East 
Rock is not only one of the highest, but perhaps also the most distinguished 
of the Connecticut hill-tops. I am not aware, at least, that any other 
mountain in the State has figured so many times in song and story ; though I 
must beg pardon of the poet whose lines I now quote^ for applying them to a 

1" Holyoke Valley," io The Round TaiU. July 2, 1864, p. 35. 


different scene f Pom the one which he wished them to celebrate,— for the 1 
force themselves upon my memory whenever, in these later days, I gaze at 
shore and hill-top from the outlook of East Rock : 

On restless wings the years have fled, New Haven, over thee and me. 
Since last my wandering pathway led upon these heights that guard thy lea. 
I see the hazy waters meet the sky, and count each shining spire, 
From those which sparkle at my feet to distant steeples tipt with fire. 
For still thy beauties are the same. The robms sing their choral tmie. 
Within thy mantling elms aflame, as m that other, dearer June, 
When here my footsteps entered first, and summer perfect beauty wore. 
And an thy charms apon me burst, while all the wide world lay before. 
No less each fragrant walk remains, where happy maidens come and go. 
And students saunter in thy lanes, and sing the songs I used to know. 
Thus much 't is given me to find, but, while the natural eye beholds. 
Sad Memory, to the picture blind, her fairer inward scene unfolds. 
I gaze, and feel myself alone, and walk with solitary feet ; 

How strange these wonted ways have grown \ Where are the friends I used to meet ? 
In yonder shaded Academe the rippling meters flow to-day, 
But other boys at sunset dream of love, and laurels far away. 
And, ah I from many a trellised home, less sweet the faces are that peer 
Than those of old, and voices come less musically to my ear. 
It pains me that yon river can still pour its full unchanging stream, 
And we more transitory than the mountain's clod, the water's gleam. 
Sigh not, ye mountain pines, nor give the whispwrs which I yearn to hear — 
, Soft tones, whose memories shall live forever in my straining ear ; 

But smile, to gladden fresher hearts, henceforth : for they shall yet be led, 
Revisiting these ancient parts, like me to mourn their glory fled. 

Chapter XIX. describes my " winter wheeling " northward, to Hartford 
and beyond J and, in my Springfield chapter (p. 122), I have reported the route 
which I traversed between those two cities, Dec. 4, 1884. On the afternoon 
of that day, when I reached the crest of the hill s. of Trinity College, where 
New Britain av. is to be descended s. w. by those who seek the town of that 
name (and it is an objective point on all the best wheeling routes that connect 
Hartford with New Haven), I turned squarely to the %., and rode i m. along 
the macadamized ridge, having fine views of the country on both sides of it 
At the end I followed the telegraph poles along the old turnpike in a straight 
line to the hotel at Berlin (9 m. in 2 h.), where the red clay road from New 
Britain joins it ; and ray report reads : " hills and ridges in succession, muddy 
and sandy by turns, no attractive views, few houses ; the sandy spots, made 
ridable by the frost, would probably be too soft in the summer, and the muddy 
places would probably be ridable then." If I had taken the usual and prefer- 
able route, s. w. from the college hill, I should have had a choice of courses, 
after crossing under the railway at Elmwood (about 3 m.), for there the 
meadow road to Newington branches to the right, and I was told that New 


Britain riders prefer it, except at the muddy season. I myself have had better 
luck, however, by keeping due west, up a long hill (ridable but tiresome), sur- 
mounted by a school-house, and to Corbin's corner, about i m. beyond, where 
a turn is made s., followed by nearly 2 m. of poor ridiog ; then a short ascent 
after crossing a brook (I have conquered this but once in a half dozen trials), 
another turn s., and 2 m. of smooth roadway to New Britain. About \ m. 
after taking this last turn, a junction is made with the other road that 
stretches e. to Newington and Elmwood (4 m., which I have found more tire- 
some, on account of mud and ruts, than the 5} m. just described). Another 
ridable route to the last named place, from Hartford, leads through Asylum st. 
(which crosses the tracks at right angles in front of the railway station, and 
whose stone sidewalk is ridable up-hill to the w.), and then Farmington^av., 
in the same westward direction to Quaker lane, which is the second or third 
cross-street beyond the terminus of the horse railroad, and which leads south- 
ward in a pretty direct line to the main street in Elmwood, about opposite 
the meadow road for Newington. The church-spire of West Hartford is 
hardly i m. away, when the turn is made into Quaker lane, and a parallel road 
extends from that church to the school-house on the hill beyond Elmwood. 
Farmington is 5 ra. to the n. of Plain ville, and the same distance s. w. of West 
Hartford ; and local wheelmen have told me that the roads connecting them 
are fairly ndable. I lately learned, also, from a resident of Berlin, that the 
direct road between there and Hartford, which I have described as difficult 
in December, has been traversed by him, both n. and s., without dismount. 

At the fork, 2 m. e. of New Britain, where the tourist sees the church- 
spire, beside the hotel at Berlin, i( m. ahead, he should aim for it, by taking 
the 1. road, for in that way he may go to Meriden without stop (6 m. s. from 
the hotel, though the hill just before reaching the hotel is rather hard climb- 
mg). If he turns r. at the before-named fork, and then crosses the railway, 
he may ultimately reach the same road, after considerable rough traveling. 
I once found there (Dec. 11, '83) so much of the latter, that, in despair of 
reaching the former, I turned westward, over a railway bridge, and tried again 
the southward course, which I had happened to hit upon in my earliest ex- 
ploration of the region (June 10, *8o), and of which I then printed the follow- 
ing report : ** Below Berlin the road runs along the west side of the railway 
for s6me distance, and, within 4 m., it leads over several long hills, which 
have to be ascended on foot, if not also descended in the same manner. 
Mounting at last, near the top of one of these, the rider may go without stop 
to the hotel in Meriden (3^ m.), though he will have to climb a tolerable hill 
soon after the start, apd also a short, steep one about i m. from the finish. 
Between these p>oints, the road has a continuous downward slope, varying 
pleasantly in degrees of steepness, and for more than a mile it runs through a 
magnificent, shaded glen or gorge, — worthy of a nobler name than * Cat Hole 
Pass,' — the very perfection of wheeling." At the fork, 4 m. n. of Meriden, 
on the other road, either branch may be taken, for the two converge again 


s. of Berlin ; but whoever turns 1. at the fork, as I prefer to do, should turn c 
at the next chance which offers.^ 

1 About the middle of September, 1883, roads and weather being favorable, Dr. T. S. Rint, 
Captain of the Meriden Wheel ^Qub, drove a 56 in. wheel by this route to New Britain and 
Hartford (about 33 m.) without leaving the saddle. On December i, '83, William CoQins, 
of the same dub (whose day's ride of 155 m. from this town to Nashua, N. H., has been rs- 
corded on p. xaS), starting at 5 a. m., reached Springfield in about 6 h., and arrived home at 8 
p. M., with a record of 100 m. shown by the 50 in. cyclometer which was attached to his 5a m. 
wheel. A more remarkable day's run by the same rider (May 31, '84, 4.30 a. m. to r. m.) 
extended from the Grand Union Hotel, 4a st. and 4th av., N. Y., to Meriden, — ^his route being 
through 5th av., Central av., past Jerome Park and Woodlawn Cemetery (near which be made a 
detour of | m. in losii^ his course) to Mt Vernon and New Rochelle, — which point he might 
muclkmore readily have reached by the shore road (p. 73). He took the direct pike from Mflfosd 
to New Haven \ and the Ducwell av. route thence to Centerville and Cheshire. He bad Ittuch 
at Jerome Park, breakfast at Mt. Vernon (} h.), dinner at Southport (i to 1.30 p. m.), reached 
Bridgeport at 3.30, and New Haven at 5.30 o'clock. His longest stay in the saddle was be- 
tween there and Cheshire, and his longest stretch without rest was between Southprnt and 
New Haven. " The weather was cool and pleasant," he writes, " and the idea of attemptiDg the 
trip first occurred to me when I reached the hotel, the previous evening, after a ride to Hemp* 
stead, L. I., and back. I make it a point, on such long trips, to dismount at all hiBs, in order 
to save myself for the finish ; but I think, if two days were given to the journey, the whole 
distance from New York to Meriden coald be traversed, without a single forced dismount." 

A ride of June 23, '83, from Fair Haven to Ridgefield, which adjoins the most northeast* 
erly town of Westchester county, N. Y., was thus reported to me by John H. Whiting (b. Nov. a4« 
Z849; grad. Yale Law School, 1876} : " Started at 3.15 a. m., to avoid heat, atkl paaiaed Savin 
Rock, Milford, Stratford, Bridgeport, Fairfield, Southport, Green's Farms, and Saugatuck to 
Westport (35 m.), at 9 a. m. My first 8 m., to Tyler's Point, were without dismount ; the 6 m. 
thence to Milford required ^ m. of walking ; the 3^ m. to Housatonic river at Stratford required 
perhaps \ m. on foot ; the 10 or 11 m. thence to Southport forced only one dismount ; and the last 
7 m. to Westport made me leave the saddle thrice. Resting there \ h. for lunch, I proceeded to 
Wilton, 6 m. ; lost my way there and went nearly to Redding; thence by newly-made, roo^ 
country road to Branchville, 3 m. ; and to Ridgefield (4 m., mostly up-hill), at 1.30 p. m., the 
whole distance being nearly 60 m., though the length of other routts to New Haven is fnHQ 45 
m. to 50 m. I rode a 50 in. Harvard, for I believe in a small wheel, and learned on a 46 in. 
I frequently go 25 m. or more without any other rest than is implied in a brief stop for a glass of 
beer, but I rarely have time to indulge in a straightaway ride like this. " The same rider afterwards 
prepared for roe a statement which I printed in the Wheel {^9Xi, 33, '85), and now reproduce, 
with slight verbal abbreviations, as follows : " This is to certify that Dr. N. P. Tyler and my- 
self left New Haven Nov. 4, 1884, for a run to New York City and rctimi, but were prevented 
by the rain from going further than White Plains ; that we reached Bridgeport, ao m., following 
the shore road, in s h. 5 min., and South Norwalk, 36 m., in exactly 4 h. Dr. Tyler rode from 
New Haven to the Saugatuck river with but two dismounts, and the distance between the first, 
in West Haven, and the second, beyond Green's Farms, was 25^ m., measured by both a M> 
Donnell cyclometer and an Excelsior cyclometer. The absence of the bridge over the Sauga- 
tuck compelled us to cross by the railroad bridge, or we should have reached South Norwalk 
without another dismount. We reached Stamford, 44 m., 5} h. after starting. Wednesday I 
rode from White Plains to Milford, 51 m., inside of 9 h. ; running time, ^\ h. Dated at New 
Haven this 8th day of Nov., 1884. John H. Whiting. Subscribed and sworn to this 8th day 
of Nov., 1884, at said New Haven, before me, Julius Twiss, Notary Public." 

Dr. Tyler himself adds the following details : " When we left Sumford, at a o'clock, after 
halting i h. for dinner, there were dashes of rain, and the road became heavy. • We went 
through Greenwich, and then struck w. to Glenville, but were compelled to turn a. again across 


" Interested wheelmen will perhaps often hereafter take pleasure in visit- 
ing the charming valley of the Naugatuck, and pedaling over the first coun- 
try roadway that knew the sinuous track of the bicycle, and coasting the hill 
of the first genuine header." So wrote Charles E. Pratt, in his entertaining 
historical sketch {Th€ Wheelman^ Oct. 1883, p. 12), which gave the biography, 
portrait (1S69) and autograph of the inventor of the crank bicycle : Pierre 
Lallement, who was born Oct. 25, 1843, *^ Pont-a-Mousson, near Nancy, 
France, and whom the close of his fortieth year found, after many ups and 
downs of fortune, employed as a skilled mechanic by the Pope Manufacturing 
Company, at Boston. The sketch says that Lallement, in the spring of 1866, 
having successfully made shorter trials between Ansonia and Birmingham, 
wheeled from Ansonia to New Haven, " and there rode his novel vehicle on 

what is tenned Hog-pen Ridge, 3 m., and very fine riding, to the Port Chester boulevard. It 
was then raining torrents and the mud was inches deep, but we pushed on, reaching White 
Plains at 5.30 o'clock, 61 m. At 8.45, 1 started on alone for Tarrytown, reaching there at 10 
r. M., with the rain still foiling. I ivould advise riders to go direct from Stamford to Port 
Chester, and then push w. to White Plains, as the better and shorter road. Greenwich is, 
however, decidedly hilly. I rode a a6^ lb. Rudge racer and lillibridge saddle. This ride was 
remarkable in reference to the 25^ m. without dismount, as your own knowledge of the road 
makes you well aware. My first stop was caused by a long, steep hill, 4^ m. out from New 
Haven ; but I have since ridden around it by another road without stop." It seems from this 
that a skilful rider might have the good luck to go from Cheshire to South Norwalk and beyond 
(say 50 to 55 m.) without leaving the saddle; though I most say that Dr. Tyler's good luck as 
wdl as " staying " power appears to me very extraordinary. I have as yet heard of no " stay " 
equally long upon a course which I know to be so difficult as that one. The latter part of it, 
Southington to South Norwalk, I myself have explored but once (Dec. 6, '84), when I made 
numberless dismounts, and did much walking through the sand, with several detours (9 m. in 3 h.) ; 
and I therefore recommend through tourists to stick to the turnpike, and avoid those two towns 
entirely, as I have always done on other occasions. This preferable route leads across the rail- 
way beyond Fairfield, and includes a long hill at Westport (which I have ridden up, two or three 
times, though it makes me groan), and another one beyond Norwalk (4 m.), the road up which 
branches off to the r. from the main street leading to South Norwalk. The two routes con- 
veige at Darien (4 m.) ; and the traveler coming thence towards New Haven, who wishes to go 
through South Norwalk, should bear to the r. after crossing the brook. Again, after riding up the 
hill leadii^ out of Norwalk, on the s. sidewalk, he should cross the green, and leave it from the 
diagonally opposite comer, for the road on the I. of the church will take him astray towards Weston. 
If he wishes to exchange the direct pike for the shore road at Westport, he may turn r. and follow 
the river down a m. to Saugatuck ; or if he sticks to the pike until he reaches the little octagonal 
house at a cross-roads he may there branch r. and pass through Southport, rejoining the main 
road again at the before-mentioned railway crossing w. of Fairfield. When he reaches that 
town, he should turn r. and then 1., in order to enjoy the broad and shady sidewalk of its main 
street ; and, in case of riding towards Southport, he should be careful, when he reaches the end 
of this main sidewalk, to follow it round the comer, 1., instead of taking the sandy road directly 
in front of him. When he leaves Stamford he will encounter a hill, which is tiresome to climb, 
from whose summit he may see the church spires of Greenwich, 5 m. beyond ; and, shortly 
before reaching them, he will pass up a rough grade (which I have never ridden) through a 
cutting in the rode that is famous in tradition as the one down which dashed the heroic horseman, 
General PcgLnam, dear to the hearts of boyish students of our Revolutionary history, and escaped 
tmharmed from the fusilade of the British cavalrymen, who dared not spur their steeds in further 
pusuit of so desperate a rider. 


the public green and on the streets." Considering that I was then a resident 
of the city, in my early bloom as a brown-coated Freshman of Old Yale, it 
grieves me to record my personal absence from the green and streets, durixig 
those historic hours. The exhibition could hardly have excited much general 
attention, however, for it was not discussed at all among the undergraduates ; 
and if any allusion to it was printed in the city papers, I failed to read 
the same. It may have happened during the three weeks' April vacation ; 
but, at all events, nearly three years more slid by before my young blood was 
first fired by the magic name " veloss," in the opening days of 1869. 

A pilgrimage along that primal path where the pioneer tourist, Pierre 
Lallement, had hopefully pushed the prototype of all existing bicycles, seven- 
teen year% before, was a thing which appealed to my historic sentiment, as the 
correct caper to indulge myself in. Accordingly, I did indulge in the pilgrim- 
age, some months before I saw the suggestion in the Wheelman^ or learned there 
that the $2,000 for which lallement finally managed to sell his patent on " the 
crank idea," formed the richest reward that he ever reaped for his ingenuity 
in " setting the world on wheels." Twenty-six days had my bicycle rested in- 
gloriously in a stable, when I dragged it out (July 27, '83) to face the fierce 
glare that beats upon a New Haven sidewalk in midsummer, and drove it 
along the same, through West Chapel St., past the new Yale Athletic Grounds, 
to the cross-road connecting West Haven with Westville. The latter part of 
this distance (2 m.), after leaving the sidewalk, was most of it too sandy for 
riding; and I halted just beyond here to listen to a laughing negro's story of a 
dog that barked at me from a distance and then hurriedly disappeared. " I 
saw dat ar dog run into by a bicycle on Whalley av., a few days ago," said 
the man. " He frew de feller off, and den he lipt hom'erds two mile widout 
stoppin*, — ^worse dan dem greyhounds useter, down to New Orleans." Sand 
continues for another \ m. to the toll-gate (2 o'clock), where stone on 1. says 
" 3 m. to N. H." Thence the track is generally ridable to the cross-roads 
(5} m. in I h.), near which is an advertising plank, "8 m. to N. H."; — the de- 
scending road here, 1., leading to Milford, on the shore. The bridge over the 
Naugatuck river, just above where it flows into the Housatonic, at Derby, is 
I J m. beyond, and by it I cross into Birmingham, and wheel to the crest of 
the hill on concrete sidewalk on 1. ; crossing the street there and ascending 
another slope to r., on r. walk, past the soldiers' monument, and so to the s. 
bridge at Ansonia, 2 m. This is the course where Pierre Lallement ** took 
the first regular header from the first crank bicycle known to our history ** 
(pictured in the Wheelman, p. 10) ; and the distance between the two bridges 
may easily be done in either direction without a dismount. The more direct 
road, which joins them on the e. side of the river, is also said to be ridable. 
My afternoon's record, with detours at each end of the route, was i^m. I 
tarried a day in Ansonia, with a lawyer who was my academy classmate twenty 
years before, and whose character as a wheelman I now first discovered. 
Stress of weather, however, prevented our making any trial together, except 


on foot, of the various steep sidewalks of smooth concrete, where the local 
riders delight to test their prowess as hill-climbers. I had a chat with a man 
who worked in the same machine-shop with Lallement, during nearly all the 
period of his stay here in 1865-66. He recalled him as a pleasant young fel- 
low, whose good-nature made him popular among the other workmen, and 
whose inability to use English, except in fragments which he had " broken " 
in a very Frenchy manner, led them very generally to call him by the nick- 
Dame " Crapoo." This variation of ** Johnny Crai>aud " was doubtless easier 
to utter than " Lallement " ; but the fact of its being in vogue serves in its 
way to confirm the testimony of my informant that the utterers all looked upon 
•* Crapoo " with a sort of good-natured contempt, as a man of no particular 
account. He did not impress them at all as a possible inventor, .even pro- 
spectively ; and as for his two-wheeled hobby-horse, by whose contortions 
upon the street, when working hours were over, he caused them to laugh,^ 
they never suspected that it contained any idea worth patenting, or that he 
himself thought he had discovered anything important when he put it to- 
gether. The Ansonian tradition of Lallement, if his fellow-workman gave it 
to me truly, is that of a light-hearted and intellectually light-weighted young 
mechanic, whose animal spirits found casual vent in rigging up an amusing 
toy, to play with upon the streets ; and whose relative helplessness (resulting 
from ignorance of the language and customs of America) caused the others to 
treat him with a certain kind indulgence, as if he were a sort of sprightly, 
grown-up child, who " was n't to blame for being a foreigner.'* 

My next day's ride of 40 m. led up the valley of the Naugatuck to 
Waterbury, 17 m., and thence northwestward up the hills to Litchfield. 
Crossing the n. bridge of Ansonia at 10 o'clock, I went up-hill to the water- . 
ing trough, where I turned r. and proceeded 3 m. to the fork, making one 
dismount about midway, where I first reached the river level. Tlie 1. road at 
the trough supplies a ridable surface back to Birmingham. At the fork I took 
the r., though the 1. would probably have donfe as well, for the two converge 
m } m., at the pond by the church in Seymour, where I designed to cross the 
river ; but as the bridge there, by the Wilbur House, was in process of re- 
pair, I mounted again and went along the west side of the pond, then over 
the north bridge and railroad, without stop to the hill. I found a little sand 
at the foot of the descent before I reached the first of the small bridges be- 
side the pond {\ m.) ; and I then rode I m. without stop, up a long sandy 
grade and down it to the water-trough. Descending another stony hill, I 
stayed in the saddle for near 3 m., or almost to the top of a big hill, opposite 
a picnic grove, on the river below, — ^passing meanwhile the " Beacon Falls 
Hotel " and the neater looking ** High Rock House by E. Brown," with a 
big brick factory between them, and riding for quite a distance on a cinder 
path. The descent of the hill was followed by a continuous though gentle 
ascent until I reached the Naugatuck Hotel (3 m.), at 12.40 p. m., — no prc- 
timinary stop having been forced upon me, spite of the soft and rough sur- 


face. Having disposed of dinner in } h., I rode i| m. to the fork on the hill 
and to this point a man might, by good luck, wheel without stop from the 
pond, 9 m. below. He might also continue from this point without stop to 
the green in Waterbury, then w. across the bridge and n. to the fork* 5 m. 
I reached that fork in i h. after leaving the hotel, — ^having made many stops 
in changing from one sidewalk to the other, on account of th^ mud in the 
street. Taking the 1., I passed the Oakville post-office and store (if m.) and 
reached the hill in Watertown where the churches stand (2^ m.) at 3.30 
o'clock. Here I turned off from the direct turnpike for Litchfield, and went 
up a hill to 1., surmounted by a big summer hotel, around which I turned to 
the r., and again at the fork took the r., past the fair grounds, to the 
post saying " 3^ m. to Morris ; 3} m. to Watertown.** Just i m. beyond 
this post, I turned to r. and climbed nearly to the crest of the hill at the 
^ross-roads in Morris, 3 m. The spires of Litchfield soon came into view ; 
and it was not until I had walked up the last slopes of a long hill, and 
reached the level of the village street, that I enquired the route to Bantam 
Lake, and discovered that I should have turned 1. i m. below. However, 
being on the summit, I thought I might as well " see Litchfield " ; and so I 
sped along the w. sidewalk \ m. to the Mansion House (the opposite hotel is 
the " United States " ; while the " Lake View,** a larger and more fashionable 
establishment, is \ m. to the west), and \ m. beyond, to the end of the North 
street ; then back by the e. sidewalk to the starting-point. I rode down the 
long hill, and made the turn 1. i m. beyond ; whence if m. of riding and 
walking brought me to the Bantam Lake* House at 7.30 o'clock.^ 

1 The sun shone bright, that day, but the air was very cool, and a strong breeze from the 
south was generally a help to me. The scenery along the entire route was varied and attractive. 
Most of the roads which I traversed were probably at their best, because of the previous day*s 
showers. The first part of them, indeed, would hardly have been ridable except for this ; and 
when I walked down the Litchfield hill, two days later, the sand seemed so deep that I shooM 
not have attempted to ride down, had my wheel been with me. From Waterbury the tnck 
through the Naugatuck valley was said to continue good as far n. as Winsted, — say 35 or 30 m. 
Though I kept on the e. bank from Seymour to Waterbury, a road reaches fi%m that city down 
the west side of the valley to Birmingham, and thence to Stratford ; but the final section of 
it is reported sandy and unridable, — the road through Derby and Milford supplying a preferable 
route to the Sound. In Ansonia, as I should have remarked before, the favorite stretch of 
concrete, for the up-grade trials of wheeling, is the sidewalk of Foundry HiU, banning at the 
self-4ame foundry where Pierre Lallement was employed, twenty years ago. There is said to 
be good riding from Waterbury to Bristol (10 or 13 m.), thence to the adjoining town of Plain- 
ville, and so to New Britain. Westward from Bristol, the direct road for Litchfield (say 15 m. 
or more) leads through Tcrrysville, Thomaston and Northfield ; and it is said to be ridable. In 
the summer of V9> l^f- O* P- Fiske, who was then an undergraduate at Amherst, toured from 
New Haven to Poughkeepsie, by way of Birmingham, Oxford, Roxbury and New Millord. 
" We had lots of walking to this point," he writes; " but we thence rode straight across, over 
Plymouth mountain, to the Hudson, and had wheeling most of the way." 

Litchfield quite won my heart as a type of the quiet, old-fashioned and emiiiently-r«spectap 
ble New England town* at its best estate. It is well worth visiting, if only for the sake of 
convincing one's self that such placid villages really do exist, undisturbed by the rush and nw 


Resuming my tour at 5.30 o'clock on the morning of August i, I went to 
the Litchfield post-office (3^ m. in } h.) by the w. road, directly from Bantam 
Lake to the Shepaug terminus, — ^the half-mile hill from there to the post-office 
requiring considerable walking. At the end of the sidewalk of the North 
st^ I took the 1. road for Goshen and made my first dismount in 3 m., at the 
end of a long hill ; then walked up and rode down a succession of soft and 
sandy ridges for } m. ; then sped along the smooth clay surface for 2\ m. to 
the flagpole in front of the Goshen House, where I halted at 7.30 fdr an hour's 
rest and breakfast. The latter half of this final spin was undulating, but the 
first half afforded i m. of perfectly level riding, along the hill-top, with beau- 
tiful views on either hand.' From the hotel I faced eastward for xj m., to 
the crest of the next parallel ridge, along which I rode northward. Just a 
few rods above the point of turning, a white marble slab says to the tourist .' 
** Here stood the Liberty Pole in 1776." Along the hard loam surface of this 
historic hill-top, whose grade slopes gradually upward, with one or two quite 
difficult pitches, I sped along without stop to the cross-roads (2^ m.), having 
superb mountain-views bounding the horizon on both sides of me for the 
entire distance. No stop was needed at the cross-roads, where the decline 
began, nor indeed until I reached the next up-grade, i m. beyond. After this 
I had I m. of up-and-down, through the woods, where much walking was 
needed ; and then i m. of riding, in the open, and so down a difficult slope to 
a brook-side school house at South Norfolk. The next mile was mostly afoot 
and up-hill to the cross-roads sign *' Goshen 9 m., Norfolk 3 m., Winsted 8 m." 

of the railwaTs, and unruffled by the fret and bustle of " fashionable summer-resort people." 
AD the residences seem to shelter well-to-do owners, and almost none of the residences seem 
ooostructed for the purpose of proclaiming the owner's wealth. Many of the houses exhibit 
above the central doorway a date that indicates a century or more of history ; and it soothes 
the nerres of the sentimental tourist to find such kindred spirits who are able thus to take 
pride in living within the same wooden walls that afforded comfortable and dignified shelter to 
the worthies of Washington's time. 

The Shepaug river, a branch of the Housatonic, takes its rise at Bantam Lake ; and it gives 
its name to a little branch-railway, which creeps along its bank from the main line, and, once in 
a while, furtively sends a little train to quietly put down its passengers at the little terminal 
station "behind the hQl of Litchfield." But the placidity of that noble hill-top is not im- 
paired at all by this lowly reminder of the struggling outside world. The locomotives of the 
Shepaug, yttien not entirely disabled and out-of-commission, perfectly understand the pro- 
prieties of the place, and even in their most rampant and hilarious moods, " roar you as gently 
as sucking doves." They are proud, too, of Bantam Lake, as the largest pond in Connecticut. 

* The village of Sharon is about 15 m. due west of Goshen (Cornwall being the interme- 
diate town), and I presume that most of the distance could be ridden, though a mountain range 
would have to be crossed ; and from Sharon a good road extends w. through Amenia to Pough- 
keepsie on the Hudsoo. A n. w. road from Goshen also leads directly to South Canaan (10 m.) 
and from there, or from a point s. of there, a w. road leads to Lakeville (5 m.), whence to Sharon 
(about 8 m.) good wheeling may be had. A road winds through the mountain-passes e. from 
South Canaan to Norfolk (about 8m.); and a n. w. road from there extends along the railway 
and the Blackberry river to its junction with the Housatonic, in North Canaan, the border-town 
adjacent to Sheffield, in Massachusetts. 



After crossing the railroad bridge, I rode up a long, sandy grade, with fine 
views most of the way (2 m.)* and then passed through the little park in 
Norfolk to the "store" (i m.), at 11.30^ where I rested an hour and munched 
a lunch, as a hotel dinner could not be obtained until i o'clock. I had now 
traveled 21 1 m. from the lake; and when I dismounted at the Carter House 
in New Hartford, at 6.30 P. M., my day's record was 38 m., but the afternoon's 
route is not worthy of much praise. Between New Haven and Norfolk my 
cyclometer 'registered 77 m., and I can recommend the track to any tourist 
who likes to trail his wheel among the hill-tops; but, from Norwalk, he 
ought to proceed n. w. to Sheffield (say Z2 or 15 m.), where he will meet the 
excellent road leading northward through the Housatonic valley to Pittsfield 
(say 30 or 35 m.). My own course from Norfolk was eastward, however, and 
I devoted i h. to traversing the 4 m. which brought me to the cross-roads 
post saying " i m. to Colebrook." A half-mile beyond this a heavy shower 
drove me to take refuge in a farmer's shed ; and the track was very muddy 
when I started on, i h. later, and plodded across hill after hill to a fork, whose 
1. branch, marked " Hitchcockville," would have taken me to New Hartford, 
by way of Riverton and Barkhamsted, whereas the r. branch did take me 
there more directly, by way of Winsted.' 

It should be understood that, at this fork, I definitely turned backward 
from my objective point (Springfield), in the hope of finding better roads 
which would render a roundabout route thither practically shorter than the 
direct one. Otherwise I should have turned